


A Thousand and One

by SeeThemFlying



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Lets see where this goes, Tumblr Prompt, i hope you enjoy, just a little place I can shove them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 04:54:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 62
Words: 151,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeeThemFlying/pseuds/SeeThemFlying
Summary: Just a little space to stash any tumblr prompts I might get. If you want to prompt me and follow me, I am @SeeThemFlying. Send them straight to my askbox!Chapter 63: It's Just Business - Jaime and Brienne hang out after work...
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 2151
Kudos: 1152





	1. Contents

Hey guys, so this is the contents for my tumblr prompts because this thing is getting unwieldy. I hope you find this useful!

If you want to send me a prompt, please drop it in my askbox [here](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).

**Rent-a-Womb/Baby Mama Universe (WIP)**

_Jaime is the boyfriend of successful movie actress Cersei Marbrand. Wanting to start a family, the couple agree to get a surrogate. Enter Brienne Tarth, a struggling grad student, who needs money to help her sick father. At first, it seems the arrangement suits everyone, but then Jaime and Brienne discover they have matching soulmarks._

1\. [Rent-a-Womb: Part I](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/51678646) \- Jaime and Brienne meet.

2\. [Rent-a-Womb: Part II](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/51778297) \- Jaime comes to rescue Brienne when her work floods.

3\. The story is continued in its own fic, ["Baby Mama"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21711448/chapters/51788194).

**Accidental Marriage AU**

_Jaime and Brienne are teachers working at King's Landing High School who have always, always detested each other. When Brienne wants to run a school trip for her Indigenous Cultures class north of the Wall, she is forced to take Jaime with her as he is the only teacher with a minibus license. Once in the North, Jaime and Brienne become familiar with wildling marriage practices._

1\. [A Cultural Misunderstanding](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/51849169) \- Jaime and Brienne go North with their indigenous cultures class.

2\. The story is continued in its own fic, ["What Happens at the Wall, Stays at the Wall"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22022122/chapters/52554382).

**The General and the Sword AU**

_Set post book canon. After Jaime and Brienne are forced to separate once they have rescued Sansa from the Eyrie, Brienne journeys to Winterfell with her new mistress. Once there, she has to prepare for the oncoming Long Night. At the same time, Jaime approaches with the Lannister army aiming to offer support. However, with Daenerys Targaryen to placate, Jaime and Brienne will have to find some way to prove the former's loyalty._

1\. [The General and the Sword](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/53843791) \- Brienne's POV of Jaime's arrival at Winterfell.

2\. [The Kingslayer's Heart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/57069679) \- Davos' POV of the same scene.

**One Night Stand AU**

_After meeting at a convention, Jaime and Brienne end up having a one night stand. They then both panic about what that actually means and the best way of contacting each other._

1\. [One Night Stand](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/54644632) \- Brienne's POV.

2\. [Two Night Stand](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/56154841) \- Jaime's POV.

**Amateur Dramatics AU**

_Jaime and Brienne both take part in an Amateur Dramatics Society with Catelyn as the director; Jaime as an actor, Brienne as stage manager. Having been wounded in the past, Brienne struggles to believe that Jaime is anything other than a person who is trying his hardest to annoy her._

1\. [A Winter Rose: Part I](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/54896827) \- When KLADS put on a production of _Florian and Jonquil,_ Jaime and Brienne grow closer.

2\. [A Winter Rose: Part II](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/56409304) \- During the next seasons production of _Brave Danny Flint,_ Brienne has to consider her feelings for Jaime.

**Drunk Jaime AU**

_One night, Brienne is interrupted by a very drunk Jaime phoning her. The conversation goes to a place she does not expect._

1\. [Drunk-Dialled: Part I](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/56453503) \- Jaime phones Brienne.

2\. [Drunk-Dialled: Part II](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/56693287) \- Jaime arrives at Brienne's flat.

3\. [Drunk-Dialled: Part III](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/57469216) \- The following morning.

4\. [Drunk-Dialled ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24082597/chapters/57962575) \- A reworking of the "Drunk Dialled" series with an additional epilogue.

**Divorce AU (WIP)**

_After discovering the truth about his past, Brienne has to decide whether to divorce her husband Jaime._

1\. [Sign Here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/56527729) \- Brienne considers signing the divorce papers.

2\. [Take This](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/57315685) \- Some time has passed, and Brienne's life has changed.

3\. [Drink That](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/57818290) \- Jaime and Brienne decide to talk things through.

4\. [Tell Her](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/58064503) \- Brienne meets Jaime's new fiancée.

**Jane Eyre AU**

_Miss Brienne Tarth works as a governess at Casterly Rock looking after Mr Jaime Lannister's two younger children, Myrcella and Tommen. However, there are strange sounds coming from the attic, and Mr Lannister is not all that he appears to be..._

1\. [No Net Ensnares Me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/57768832#workskin) \- Mr Jaime Lannister holds a ball and his children's governess, Miss Tarth, agonises over attending.

2\. [As Much Soul As You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/58363993) \- Miss Tarth goes to investigate the attic.

3\. This story is continued in its own fic, ["Under My Left Ribs"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24363112/chapters/58755178).

** Professor Jaime/Student Brienne AU**

1\. [Late Nights at the Library](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/58724323) \- Grad student Brienne has feelings for a professor at her university, Jaime.

2\. [Late Nights in the Limelight](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/59419006) \- After bumping into graduate student Brienne on campus, Professor Jaime discovers things have become awkward between them back in the library...

3\. [Late Nights in Leggings](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/59701369) \- After Professor Jaime agrees to go on a date with Margaery, Student Brienne struggles with how to deal with him at Renly's party...

4\. [Late Nights and Lions](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/60593434) \- After Professor Jaime's talk with Student Brienne on the balcony, he has to decide what to do about Margaery...

5\. [Late Nights and Lamentations](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/63826228#workskin) \- The morning after the night before, Student Brienne has to deal with her feelings towards Professor Jaime...

6\. This story is continued in its own fic, ["Late Nights in Love"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26534341/chapters/64678024).

**Cellist Brienne AU (WIP)**

1\. [Cello Suite No. 1](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/59469850) \- After losing his hand, Jaime cannot sleep due to terrible nightmares. In fact, the only thing that soothes him is the sound of a cello coming through his bedroom wall...

2\. [Cello Suite No. 2](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/60116815) \- Brienne plays the cello for Jaime again, much to the consternation of her boyfriend Hyle...

3\. [Cello Suite No. 3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/64544539) \- Brienne starts to play the cello for Jaime in a series of private concerts, and the tension builds...

**Patient Jaime/Nurse Brienne AU**

1\. [Light in the Darkness: Part I](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/59209885) \- Working in KLU Hospital, Brienne is horrified to discover her latest patient is her ex-fiancé, Jaime, who she has not seen in eighteen years...

2\. [Light in the Darkness: Part II](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/64392385) \- When Jaime arrives at the hospital seriously injured, Nurse Brienne has to confront her feelings for him.

**Drunk Declarations AU**

1\. [28th November: Part I](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/63525049) \- Days before her wedding day to Hyle, Jaime accompanies Brienne to the dress shop for the final fitting. However, feelings that have been kept secret for a long time make themselves known...

2\. [28th November: Part II](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/64779826) \- After an ill-advised public declaration of his feelings for Brienne a few days before her wedding to Hyle, Jaime goes into hiding...

**One Shots**

_A list of all the standalone stories in this collection._

1\. [A Christmas Miracle](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/51710593) \- Jaime and Brienne are snowed in together at the office over Christmas, and conversation turns to the past.

2\. [Snow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/51738907#workskin) \- Trapped in a cave in the Mountains of the Moon with Brienne and Pod, Jaime has no choice but to go and search for food before they all starve to death. Brienne is angry he made this decision alone.

3\. [Medusa](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/51809191#workskin) \- After hearing news of a foul monster, the Kingslayer sets out to slay it in order to regain his honour.

4\. [Kingslayer](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/51875983#workskin) \- An alternative death for the Night King in 8x03 (with a JB twist).

5\. [Her Beloved Gay Husband](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/52035298#workskin) \- Based on a tweet, Brienne rooms with her best friend, Renly, who also works as a drag queen at a gay bar. One evening, Renly brings two guys home from work, and Brienne is stuck talking to the very handsome one.

6\. [Colours](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/52159312#workskin) \- Years after their break-up, professional artist Jaime still paints pictures of Brienne.

7\. [Expected](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/52373935#workskin) \- My slightly depressing take on what Show!Brienne would have felt after Larry abandoned her.

8\. [The Last Day of Summer](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/52903654#workskin) \- At summer camp, Brienne is left upset after a dance. She goes outside and gets some sympathy from a person she did not expect.

9\. [Many Things](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/53561062#workskin) \- A JB drabble.

10\. [Not Even At All](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/53801089#workskin) \- Brienne has not seen Jaime for a year and a half, but still feels compelled to watch his favourite film on his birthday.

11\. [Faster and Slower](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/54013582#workskin) \- When Margaery goes into labour, Brienne has to drive her to the hospital. Jaime gives her some driving tips from the back seat.

12\. [Brienne ed Jaime](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/54303877#workskin) \- A reworking of Gluck's opera "Orfeo ed Eurydice", JB style.

13\. [Man Flu](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/54451858#workskin) \- Jaime has Man Flu. Brienne has to look after him.

14\. [Besieged](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/55036819#workskin) \- Show!Canon. An alternative version of Jaime's arrival at Winterfell. JB get together before the Long Night.

15\. [Midnight](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/55194097#workskin) \- Show! Canon. Another alternative version of Jaime and Brienne getting together at Winterfell before the Long Night.

16\. [Two Cupcakes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/56592859#workskin) \- A Modern AU where Jaime and Brienne meet as teenagers and steal cake at a party.

17\. [Remember Who We Are](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/57518548#workskin) \- In an effort to get back at Cersei, Jaime invites escort Brienne on a double date with his twin sister and her new boyfriend.

18\. [Opening the Door](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/58314034#workskin) \- Bodyguard Brienne has to deal with her feelings for her client, Movie Star Jaime Lannister.

19\. [Strangers at a Wedding](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/58997320) \- Jaime and Brienne, both reeling from a recent break-up, meet at a wedding.

20\. [Sharing Spit ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/59562703)\- During their end of university camping trip, Jaime and Brienne get left alone around a campfire.

21\. [One Too Many Apple Spritzers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/59824858) \- After reuniting at their ten year high school reunion, things get complicated for Jaime and Brienne...

22\. [The Love Vaccine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/61043941) \- Virologist Brienne is forced to work with scientist Jaime to find a vaccine for greyscale, and sparks fly...

23\. [The Sea King's Rules](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/61166569) \- While taking Myrcella and Tommen to a water park, Uncle Jaime meets Mermaid Brienne...

24\. [Belonging in the Moonlight](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/61519633) \- After facing Lady Stoneheart, Jaime and Brienne talk...

25\. [They Always Said They Hated Each Other](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/61997197) \- Jaime and Brienne always said they hated each other, but is it really true?

26\. [Hands](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/62295046#workskin) \- An AU where Brienne is there during the Kingslaying...

27\. [Waiting](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/63065119) \- When Sansa Stark goes to work for Jaime Lannister while disguised as a boy, unfortunate feelings arise...

28\. [What's in a Name?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/64234837) \- While Sansa tries to set Brienne up with her beautiful and sensitive friend Jay from art class, Brienne starts a war with Jaime, the incredibly rude barista at her local coffee shop...

29\. [A Knight's Favour](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/65135707) \- A canon divergent version of Jaime giving Brienne Oathkeeper...

30.[ Shapely Calves](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/65798251) \- Queen Brienne is in search of a husband, and it seems physical requirements are at the top of her priority list...

31\. [It's Just Business](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/73001562) \- Jaime and Brienne hang out after work...

Happy reading!


	2. Rent-a-Womb: Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cersei wants a baby and Jaime is determined to give her one...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So now I'm on tumblr, I thought I might do the tumblr prompt thing! If you want to prompt me, please ask me over on my blog. I am SeeThemFlying
> 
> This first prompt was from anonymous, who asked for a trope mash-up between numbers 22 and 34, which corresponded to "Soulmates" and "Pregnancy". Thank you anonymous!
> 
> I decided to do a little twist on it, so I hope you enjoy.

“I want a baby,” announced Cersei one evening when the two of them came back from a depressing night at the Iron Throne Awards, Cersei having not won a prize for her recent starring role as Argella Durrandon in _The Storm Queen_.

Jaime’s mouth dropped open in shock. “What?”

“Margaery Tyrell is having a baby with god knows who, and it is making the gossip columns _notice,_ ” Cersei declared, folding her arms in irritation across her chest.“Being a mother might also allow me to branch out into new roles; can you believe Varys from _The Daily Whisperer_ called my performance in _The Storm Queen_ hard-nosed? For gods’ sake, I even went method and spent a month swimming around Shipbreaker’s Bay for that role! I’m telling you… I’ll show him how soft I can be when I’ve got a cute little baby in my arms!”

Jaime was so happy he could have burst. He and Cersei had been together three years ever since her mother Joanna, a crazed momager who wanted her daughter to be the next big thing in the acting world _,_ had cooked up a deal with Tywin Lannister to get Jaime to walk the red carpet and take her to the premiere of _The War of the Five Kings._ An up-and-coming actress and a billionaire’s son seemed a natural pairing, and although it had started as a showmance, a real relationship had bloomed, mainly over a joint distain for their controlling parents.

Free from his father, Jaime’s relationship with Cersei made him immensely happy. However, there was a small problem. In the last few months, Cersei had been reticent about when she wanted to do the whole _having a baby_ thing, even though she knew that Jaime needed to be a father so badly it sometimes physically hurt that he wasn’t. She thought she was doing what she was contractually obliged to do; they were engaged and had an opulent wedding on the Summer Isles planned the following year, yes, but Cersei kept putting him off about starting a family, like it was some sort of inconvenience.

_Later…_

_Not now! I’ve got to think of my career!_

_I want to win an Iron Throne Award first, baby, then I promise!_

Overjoyed that she was finally coming around to his point of view, Jaime put his arms around her and kissed her fully on the mouth. Unexpectedly, she wriggled away from him.

“What are you doing?” she asked, almost annoyed.

Jaime looked at her confusedly, “you said you wanted a baby. I vote we start trying now.”

Cersei rolled her eyes at him, like he was some sort of ignoramus. “Oh god, do you seriously think I’m going to look like a beached-whale for nine months? No! I’d lose my career in an instant! It’s called a _surrogate_ , Jaime. I want an oven-ready baby; I don’t want to have to do the baking myself.”

“But…”

Sensing he was about to object; Cersei gave him one of her prettiest smiles. “If you loved me you would agree.”

He knew she was correct. That’s what love was. Agreeing.

* * *

In the end, Jaime had to do all the heavy legwork on actually looking for the surrogate, as Cersei was contracted to play Ellaria Sand in the new historical TV Show _The Sand Snakes_ and had to go on an extended trip to Dorne _._ Giving Jaime a quick peck on the cheek before she left, Cersei gazed up at him, her smile not touching her green eyes. “I expect you will have found the surrogate by the time I get back.”

“Sure,” he replied, even though he did not really know how to go about finding a surrogate. “I will because I love you.”

“I know you do,” she replied.

In the months that Cersei was gone, Jaime applied himself to the task with aplomb, because he loved his girlfriend and wanted to make her happy. He almost did not care that they weren’t soulmates - in three years, he had kissed every inch of her body and had never come across the little blue sword soulmark that had appeared on his bicep when he was fifteen - because what they had was true love. Real love. In fact, to Jaime, Cersei _was_ love, because she was the only person who had ever truly cared for him.

That’s why he was determined to find a suitable surrogate.

He eventually struck gold by just asking around King’s Landing. His brother Tyrion told him about a post-graduate student at his university who was struggling (and by the sounds of it, failing) to fund her studies and look after her dad who had a major heart problem.

“She already has two jobs alongside her PhD,” said Tyrion, “and barely has a social life because of it, so she might be open to getting a lump sum in exchange for you and Cersei renting her womb for nine months.”

Chasing the only lead he had, two weeks later, Jaime found himself in a dingy bar called _Lady Catelyn’s Dungeon,_ buying the tallest, broadest, ugliest woman he had ever seen a drink.

“So, what else are you offering?” Brienne asked, taking a sip of her gin and tonic, “just ten thousand dragons?”

In spite of himself, Jaime scoffed at her. “I thought you were poor. How can it _just_ be ten thousand dragons?”

Brienne shook her head at him, clearly unhappy with him being so condescending “You are literally asking to rent my body out so you and your girlfriend can have a baby. There’s got to be some perks beyond the monetary.”

Having struggled to even find _one_ woman willing to be a surrogate for him and Cersei, Jaime thought about things that might convince this homely, probably lonely woman of agreeing to his plan. Guessing that she might be the type to be swayed by green eyes, gold hair, and dimples, Jaime quickly settled on an answer. “I’ll look after you through the whole process, as if you had a _partner_ by your side. I’ll make you dinner, kit you out with any new clothes you want, come to all your appointments and check-ups… anything you need, I’ll be there. I know this would be a big sacrifice for you, so I would try to be helpful in any way I can.”

To his surprise, Brienne did not look flattered, but instead just narrowed her eyes at him. Clearly, she did not trust the trust fund son of Tywin Lannister. “You will? You won’t just leave me to fend for myself?”

“Of course I won’t,” vowed Jaime. “You would be facilitating my dream of being a father with the woman I love. I would never leave you to deal with this alone.”

So, to his immense gratitude, Brienne Tarth agreed.

* * *

Cersei flew back to King’s Landing from Dorne for a weekend so her eggs could be extracted, but other than that, it was all Jaime and Brienne. Jaime was there for Brienne for her doctor’s appointments, drove her to and from check-ups, and always took her for lunch afterwards. Strangely, she was also always on the other end of the phone when Cersei was ignoring him and he needed someone to talk to, armed with kind words and jokes.

Within a few weeks, Jaime had tentatively started calling her one of his friends.

The weekend they were informed that the implantation had been successful, Jaime took Brienne out for dinner at a local sports restaurant to celebrate, where they ate chicken wings and watched a football match between the _King’s Landing Kingsmen_ and the _Stormland Stallions._ Brienne got so passionately involved in the game that Jaime couldn’t help but laugh at her incessant screaming every time one of the _Stormland Stallions_ was fouled.

“I don’t know why you get so angry,” he chuckled. “It’s only a football game. Everyone knows that Baelish is a tricksy player.”

“Because cheating is dishonourable,” Brienne declared. “If you are a sportsman, you must play fair.”

Brienne was so goddamn earnest, Jaime couldn’t help but smile, and his grin only grew over the next few months. He had not expected it, but Jaime had to acknowledge something weird was happening that made him really, really happy; because she was pregnant, Brienne permitted Jaime to look after her in a way Cersei would never have countenanced him caring for her.

It felt close, right, and good. And a little fuzzy.

In the evenings, Jaime would go and pick Brienne up from her tiny flat and take her back to the palatial apartment he nominally shared with Cersei. He would cook for her and, to Jaime’s surprise, Brienne was adventurous with a big appetite in a way Cersei never was. It meant over the weeks, Jaime could eat something other than Cersei’s rabbit food, as Brienne let him try all sorts of crazy recipes on her and marked them out of ten.

“I preferred the Goulash to the Pad Thai, but only because you overdid it with the chilli in the latter,” she said teasingly when they were discussing what to have for dinner one night. “Although if you want to try the Steak and Kidney Pie again, I wouldn’t be against the idea.”

So he made her Steak and Kidney Pie and the two of them ate it on trays in front of the TV while watching their joint favourite film; _The Kingslayer and the Wench._

“I bet the historical Kingslayer and Blue Knight weren’t in love in real life,” said Brienne, taking a big mouthful of pie.

“No?” Jaime smiled. “What? Do you think he was too pretty for her?”

Brienne snorted derisively, “no. It’s just he was far too dishonourable for her.”

After they finished eating, Brienne tidied up the plates and took them back to the kitchen, and Jaime could not help but notice that she was limping slightly as she walked. Concerned, when she sat back down, Jaime asked, “what’s wrong with your foot?”

Dismissively waving her hand, Brienne said, “oh, I just went for a jog yesterday and rolled my ankle. It’s no biggie.”

Feeling chivalrous towards his rent-a-womb, Jaime shuffled closer. “Let me give you a foot massage,” he offered, not liking that she was in pain.

To his surprise, Brienne blushed a blotchy red colour at that suggestion. “Oh… I don’t know… Cersei wouldn’t like that. Would she?”

Jaime shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. She’s not here.”

 _She’s never here,_ he thought.

“I don’t know…” said Brienne slowly.

“Come on,” Jaime chided gently. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

Perhaps it was the fact that he was smiling at her, but for some reason, Brienne finally relented and stretched out her leg so that her foot was resting on his thigh. Wasting no time, Jaime pressed his thumb into the indent of Brienne’s ankle, which made her gasp. “Sorry, did that hurt?”

“Only a little,” she said quietly. “Why don’t you massage the rest of my foot? Don’t touch the centre of pain directly.”

Nodding, Jaime looked into her eyes and was momentarily derailed from his task. They were so astonishingly blue.

“You okay?” she asked suddenly, her cheeks still pink under all her freckles.

“Of course,” replied Jaime, sheepishly dropping his gaze back towards her foot. “I just wanted to work out the best way to do this.”

In the end, Jaime pulled off her Oathkeeper themed sock and began pushing his thumb into the ball of her foot, which elicited a little groan from his Baby Mama. Finding her noises strangely pleasing, Jaime then moved on to her toes, rubbing the pads with his fingers.

“Do you like that?”

“Yeah,” she replied, her voice breathy as she closed her eyes.

Putting more effort into his work, Jaime began to use his second hand as well, rubbing his thumbs in small circles, pushing almost imperceptible groans and grunts from her mouth. Sliding his fingers across her skin, Jaime could not help but take immense pleasure in tracing the little patterns in her freckles; a tree, a house, a child…

_A sword._

Jaime swallowed, his mind stuttering over the discovery he had just made. On the side of Brienne’s big toe, almost hidden from view, was a blue sword soulmark.

The twin to his own.

Leaping up from the sofa as if he had been burned, Jaime stared down at her incredulously. Brienne just looked a little worried. “Are you alright?” she asked, biting her lip nervously, clearly not understanding what had just happened.

“Yeah, I… I…” he stammered, his face getting hotter and hotter by the second, “I just need to go to the toilet.”

Without another word, Jaime turned on his heel and ran from the room, not wanting to deal with the truth he had just seen burned on Brienne’s skin.

 _I love Cersei,_ he told himself. _I love Cersei._

_I love…_

_Brienne?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! As ever, I love it if you leave comments or kudos!
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	3. The Christmas Miracle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne are snowed in for Christmas...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for coming back! 
> 
> After everyone was really super keen for a follow up to "Rent-a-Womb", I will endeavour to write part 2 here after I have completed a few more prompts. I hope you come back for it!
> 
> The prompt for this chapter was from another anonymous, and asked for a mash-up of No. 30 "Holiday Fic (for the season)" and No. 57 "Forgotten First Meeting". I hope you enjoy!

"I'm so sorry, dad," said Brienne down her phone, "you know I would be there if I could, it's just I am trapped in my office."

Selwyn Tarth outright chuckled at that. "I knew you were a workaholic, but I didn't think you were literally chained to your desk."

"I'm _not_ chained to my desk," she replied sullenly, "it's just... you know what it is like in the North. Snow Storm Sansa blew in yesterday and I've been trapped in here _all day._ The Council think they might be able to dig us out on Boxing Day, but we have to just sit tight until then."

"But that's two days away!" complained Selwyn, "and what are you going to do for Christmas?"

Brienne shrugged, even though she knew her dad couldn't see that action. "I don't know, maybe try and stream Christmas films on my work computer and drink the eggnog left over from the Christmas party."

"Are you there on your own?" asked Selwyn, concern evident in his tone, "because I'll fly up to Winter Town from Tarth and dig you out myself if that's the case."

Brienne outright laughed at her dad's dedication. "No, don't worry. One of the travel writers is here too."

"Which one?" asked Selwyn warily.

Brienne braced herself. "Jaime."

"Right I'm coming up to Winter Town with my shovel," declared Selwyn, "you shouldn't have to spend Christmas with that menace!"

"It's alright dad, Jaime's..."

_Different? Changed? Not the sarcastic arsehole who used to make me feel small anymore?_

"He's what?"

Brienne took a deep breath and then said, "just don't worry. I can take care of myself."

"As long as you are sure, starburst."

"I am," she said gently, before moving to end the conversation. "Merry Christmas, dad. Once I'm free, I'll come down and see you on Tarth."

"I count on it," he said warmly. "Have the best Christmas you possibly can."

"I'll try," she replied, trying to keep the sadness out of her tone.

After hanging up, Brienne went to sit in her office chair and fired up her computer, determined to find a free version of _Home Alone 2: Lost in King's Landing_ and watch it while eating the entirety of the six pack of mince pies she had stashed in her drawer. Brienne knew it wasn't a great way to spend Christmas Eve, but the alternative was to go out into the staff room and find Jaime which... didn't seem like an intelligent idea, not since the Riverlands anyway.

Two months earlier, their boss, Catelyn Stark, had wanted to run a piece on rural communities in the Riverlands, stating the need to diversify the types of articles _Westerosi Geographic_ were publishing. Thinking that the visual landscape of the Riverlands and their relative economic deprivation after centuries of warfare would make a fascinating photographic project, Brienne had jumped at the chance to be the photographer for the two week trip. However, she had quickly come to regret her decision when she had been paired with Jaime Lannister as the resident writer, and, quite unwillingly she had found herself packed off to Riverrun with the self-obsessed idiot, furious that she would have to put up with _him_ during what should have been the best career opportunity of her life.

As they were both nothing but professionals, they spent the two weeks touring the area around Riverrun; trying to get a feel for the area, taking pictures, and interviewing people. They fell out about some new issue every day. Brienne thought he was too caustic with the people whose stories he was meant to be bringing to life. Jaime was of the opinion that she faffed around for too long while taking photos.

"Don't tell me how to do my job!" she had raged.

"Then don't tell me how to do mine!"

They fought, and bickered, and parried, and called each other names, and then on the last night they shouted at each other so loud that they somehow ended up having sex in the back of their rented car, and it was so mind-blowing that Brienne was sure their relationship could never be the same again.

She was right, of course, but she had not anticipated what Jaime would do next...

He had started being _nice_ to her.

And that was why she had banished him from her office on Christmas Eve and committed herself to watching _Home Alone 2: Lost in King's Landing_ by herself; because she really did not want to know what would happen between her and Jaime Lannister in an empty office if the usually unpleasant travel writer tried being _nice_ to her.

* * *

Jaime had thought they had been flirting in the time leading up to Riverrun; given his good looks, he had always found that a bit of teasing made women go crazy for him. To his surprise, however, when they had arrived in the Riverlands, Jaime had discovered that Brienne genuinely did hate him. He had spent two weeks trying to make it right, but in the end not even his attempt to resolve the painfully _unresolved_ sexual tension between them in the back of their rented car had seemed to win her over, because she had been avoiding him ever since.

 _Not for much longer,_ he told himself as he hovered outside her office door. _Not for much longer..._

Knocking briskly, Jaime did not waste any time and went marching into her office. Unsurprisingly, Brienne was curled up in her coat in front of her computer, undoubtedly watching a Christmas film, stuffing her face with mince pies. He could not help but smile at the sight; although she was eternally awkward and all over the place, Brienne had a way of being ridiculously adorable.

"What are you doing in here?" she squawked, as if entering her office was in some way illegal.

Jaime let out a little laugh. "I'm just here to tell you I've finished making dinner if you want to join me."

Brienne's eyes suddenly went very wide. "Dinner? How have you made dinner?"

"There's lots of finger food left over from the Christmas Party," he admitted. "I reheated some of it in the staff kitchen, and there's even some remaining so we can have a proper Christmas dinner tomorrow."

Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, Brienne suddenly looked very worried. "Oh, I don't know... I'm halfway through _Home Alone 2."_

"Pause it," he insisted. "You can watch it any time. When else are you going to be trapped in an office on Christmas Eve with me?"

Brienne blushed, her cheeks going that beautiful pink they often did. "Okay, but... don't tease me. I'm sad I can't spend Christmas with my dad. I don't want you making me feel bad about it."

 _She thinks so little of me,_ thought Jaime sadly.

"Why would I do that?" he asked. "Just because I have no one to spend Christmas with, it doesn't mean I begrudge you it."

That little opening of a window to his soul evidently softened her somewhat, as she gave him a small smile and got up from her seat. "Okay then... let's go eat."

"Great," he beamed, opening the door for her and allowing her to walk out into the staffroom ahead of him, anticipation building in his stomach. Jaime had been expecting many reactions from Brienne to what he had done - laughter, incredulity, eye rolling - but it was not the innocent gasp that escaped her mouth.

"Jaime!" she said in wonderment, "what have you done?"

"Got ready for Christmas," he replied, turning to the masterpiece he had been working on for the past few hours. Having found a reindeer themed tablecloth, he had laid it out on the floor in front of the Christmas tree, and then laden it with plates of the left over party food he had found. The centrepiece, of course, was a massive yule log; quite selfishly, he wanted to watch Brienne eat it and get chocolate smothered all over her lips. "Do you like it?" he asked, tentatively.

"Like it?" she spluttered, running over and perching down on the tablecloth. "I _love_ it! It's a Christmas miracle."

Feeling immensely relieved at her reaction, Jaime followed her and took the place beside her, picking up a mini sausage roll as he did so. "There's no such thing as a Christmas miracle, wench, but thanks all the same."

Brienne outright pouted at that. "There is such thing," she proclaimed, "I experienced it once."

"Did you?" said Jaime indulgently, settling back into a more comfortable position, "when was that, then?"

As she prepared herself to tell a story, Brienne's face became awash with a misty, romantic emotion. "When I was five, I was rescued by a Christmas elf in Lannisport Shopping Centre."

Jaime outright laughed at that declaration. "Oh, wench, it was not a real elf."

"Yes it was!" she claimed, "my dad has photographic evidence!"

"No it wasn't," countered Jaime. "It was probably some poor kid who was doing some part time job in Santa's Grotto to make ends meet."

 _In fact, I know it was,_ thought Jaime, _because I had that exact job in Lannisport Shopping Centre when I was seventeen and wanted to try and get out of my father's control and support myself._

_It didn't work in the long run, but it was a valiant effort._

Brienne rolled her eyes. "I know it wasn't a _real_ Christmas elf, but my god, that man was my first love. My dad and I had recently moved to Lannisport because he was chasing yet another new girlfriend. Roelle was demanding as hell and wanted something better for Christmas than the earrings he got her. Being the fool he was, my dad went in search of something better the Shopping Centre late at night on Christmas Eve. As he was frantically looking for something, I got lost."

"What did you do?" asked Jaime carefully.

"As it was late, I ran to Santa's Grotto, thinking Father Christmas would save me. However, he had gone off to have a smoke, so the only person there was this Christmas elf." Her eyes became a little misty at the reminiscence. "Because I genuinely thought he was one of Santa's elves and therefore I could trust him, I burst into tears and wouldn't let go of him. The poor kid could have just sent me away, but he didn't. He kept me with him in the grotto, got me a free candy cane, asked me what I wanted for Christmas, and when I said to see a Christmas star, he took down the great big star from the top of the tree in the grotto and gave it to me. When my dad eventually found me, I was too busy laughing with my Christmas elf to be wondering where he was. As my dad was so thankful, he took a photo of the two of us and then I believe gave the guy a tip. I can honestly say it made my Christmas, because I genuinely thought I had been rescued by one of Santa's elves."

Quite suddenly, the image of a crying five year old girl slowly learning how to smile crossed Jaime's mind.

 _It can't be,_ thought Jaime, _it just can't be..._

"I want to see this photo," Jaime declared, his interest piqued, "if you believe you experienced a Christmas miracle, I want to see the evidence."

Brienne rolled her eyes. "Fine," she snorted, getting her phone out. "I'm right, so I am going to prove it to you."

 _Please do, wench,_ he thought, _then you might not think me the heartless bastard you currently believe I am._

* * *

To Brienne's surprise, Christmas Eve dinner with Jaime on the floor of their office was remarkably pleasant. After her admission about the Christmas elf, they talked about his childhood and hers, which allowed Brienne to sketch out a picture in her mind of the rather unpleasant sounding multi-millionaire Tywin Lannister. It perhaps explained a lot as to why Jaime was the way he was.

After they finished most of the food, Jaime went and found a bottle of wine. Barely paying any attention to what she was drinking as she was too busy chatting to Jaime, Brienne only noticed she'd had most of the bottle to herself when he went and opened another.

 _I don't really care, though,_ she thought, _because this is so nice._

Lost in the way his green eyes twinkled under the Christmas tree lights, Brienne missed the moment her dad got back to her with the picture of the Christmas elf.

"Wench," said Jaime gently, "your phone just buzzed."

Pulling her eyes away from his face, Brienne looked down at the message and opened the picture of herself and the Christmas elf. "There you go," she said triumphantly, "here is me and my Christmas miracle."

Handing the phone to Jaime, she was expecting him to crumple in defeat, but the second he saw the photo, his smile just seemed to grow a little bigger. "Wench?"

"Mmm?"

"When was the last time you looked at this photo?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. It must have been years."

Suddenly, Jaime's voice was quite earnest. "Maybe you should take a proper look now." Intrigued by his expression, Brienne took the phone back from him and looked down at the photo of herself and her Christmas saviour...

And found herself gazing at her five year old self being held by teenaged Jaime Lannister.

When she looked back up at Jaime, his expression was soft.

"Wha...? ... huh?... how?" she managed to babble.

Under the Christmas tree lights, his eyes seemed to shine. "I've just put it together myself, wench... sons of multi-millionaires want their independence sometimes, even if it means getting a highly embarrassing job as a Christmas elf in a local shopping centre."

Perhaps it was that her brain was wine-addled, or her belly full of food he had made her, but at that moment the ground shifted under Brienne's feet, and she saw Jaime Lannister properly for the first time; beautiful, vulnerable, _kind._

After that revelation, Brienne was not surprised at what happened next. Quite naturally, when she surged forward to kiss him, he met her halfway, letting out an appreciative little moan as she met his tongue with her own. She wasn't quite sure why she had been so resistant to this as, under the Christmas tree lights, it just felt perfect.

When the emergency services came to dig them out on Boxing Day, they found the two of them curled up together under a reindeer themed tablecloth.

In a strange way, Brienne thought she experienced a second Christmas miracle...

...Or perhaps it was just a continuation of the first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks very much for reading. I love comments and kudos, so I hope you consider leaving them <3
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	4. Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime has been missing for three days, and Brienne is very worried...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty--thief asked: "I'm in the middle of reading your Big Cop series so you'd think I wouldn't need to *also* request prompts but I'm greedy, so: 79 + 42 please and thank you :)"
> 
> 79 and 42 correspond to "Anger Born of Worry" and "Big Damn Kiss", so I hope you enjoy.
> 
> This is set in Book!Canon universe (because Show!Canon does not exist). Brienne, Jaime, and Pod have somehow escaped Lady Stoneheart and are now continuing their search for Sansa.

_He’s dead,_ she thought. _He’s been gone three days. He’s dead._

It was a horrible truth, but there was no other way around it. Jaime Lannister was dead, and he had died in an attempt to save her and Podrick from a mess of their own making. As the cold winter snows had settled in on the Mountains of the Moon, the three weary travellers had been forced to take shelter in a cave.

“There’s no point looking for Sansa now,” Jaime had said gently when Brienne had objected to the plan. “The snows are coming in, and I would mislike it rather greatly if my nose froze off on a fool’s errand.”

It was only because Pod’s lips were an icy shade of blue that Jaime had managed to convince Brienne to put the quest on hold and hide out in a small cave that had once been occupied by mountain clansmen. For the first few days they had managed to survive on tack and jerky, but as the time passed and the weather worsened, Brienne knew they would have to do something about their predicament, lest all three of them die of starvation and cold cuddled up together around a rapidly diminishing fire in the Mountains of the Moon.

 _There would be worse ways to die,_ she had mused as the ice dimmed her senses, _than going to the great beyond with the arms of the man I love wrapped around me._

In the end, though, it had been Jaime who volunteered to go in search of food, help, _anything,_ because he was noble and valiant that way. However, the thought of him lost in the snows had just made her irrationally angry, and they had ended up fighting.

“You can’t!” she had thundered. “I will not let you go off alone! The mountains are dangerous. If it’s not the snow that gets you, it will be the clansmen!”

“Do you have so little faith in my abilities, wench?” he had countered, his expression sullen.

“No! It’s just…”

_I love you, and you are too good to die in some icy tundra on my account._

Unable to expose her poor maiden’s heart, Brienne had gone on a different tack. “It’s dangerous out there alone! If we must go hunting for food, then I will come with you! We will look after each other, like we always do!”

Jaime outright scoffed at that suggestion. “And leave Pod here alone? No, wench. The boy is sick, and you are still injured from your fall on the pass. You stay here and look after him; _I_ will go and look for food.”

They had argued about it for hours, until eventually it got too dark to consider it. As all three of them were cold and tired, they had curled up together by the fire to keep warm, Pod in the middle, with Jaime and Brienne either side. Full of worry, Brienne had only managed to get to sleep by dreaming that having Jaime so close could be more permanent, that he saw her as something more than a great ugly lug, perhaps as a woman he could love and cherish.

Then in the morning she had opened her eyes and discovered he was gone.

And now he had been missing three days.

 _He’s surely dead,_ she thought. _My Jaime is dead._

“My lady,” murmured Pod, his breath erupting in icy puffs across the space. “The weather is a little better today. Maybe we should go and look for Ser Jaime?”

As all her hopes were lost, Brienne shook her head at that suggestion, and just continued to divvy up what remained of their rations. “No. I fear… I fear there would be little point in that. We must wait for a truly good day and try to get ourselves closer to the Eyrie.”

Pod’s eyes went very wide at that suggestion. “You think Ser Jaime is… is…?”

The word remained unsaid.

“I don’t know,” she replied, even as her heart screamed _yes, yes, yes,_ “but the Mountains are dangerous. The foolish man left in the middle of the night with only his cloak around him, and now he has been gone three days. Who knows what terrors are out there in the night? Snows, rocks, clansmen…?”

“Lannisters?” came a smooth voice.

Leaping to her feet, Brienne could only watch as Jaime Lannister came sauntering into the cave as casually as if this were a ball being held on Tarth, and not a freezing cold hellhole on the edge of the world. In his hand were several dead rabbits, and on his back was a huge bag that looked as if it were filled with vegetables.

At the sight of their erstwhile companion, Pod stood up excitedly, a smile breaking across his face. “Ser Jaime!” he squealed. “You came back!”

“Of course I did,” replied the Kingslayer, oathbreaker, man without honour, as he strolled over to the fire, putting down his bag and the rabbits on top. “It would take more than a few clansmen to get me!”

“You met clansmen?” asked Pod, overawed, and it made Brienne remember her loyal little squire was still a child.

_A child I put in danger._

“Yes,” smiled Ser Jaime easily. “I met a whole family of Howlers, and they were surprisingly friendly after I convinced them not to cut my head off. It was them who gave me the rabbits and the food and told me a shortcut up the mountain for when the weather is better. It was a right old adventure all things con-”

Jaime never got to finish his sentence, as at that moment, Brienne lifted her hand and slapped it sharply across his golden cheek, leaving the sound to ring satisfyingly around the cave.

“Ow! Wench!” he cried, “what was that for?”

“My name is not wench! It is Brienne!” she shouted, so loudly that she momentarily worried she may have dislodged some rocks in the old cave system. “And how dare you! How _dare_ you!”

“How dare I what?” asked Jaime, his own temper rising. “How dare I get us food? How dare I try and save our lives?”

“How dare you leave in the middle of the night without saying a word and then wander back in after three days as if nothing had happened!” she thundered, barely noticing Pod’s shocked looking expression beside her. “You could have died! The cold could have got to you, or the clansmen, or the rocks…”

“But they didn’t, wench,” Jaime said, surprisingly gently, “they didn’t…”

“But they could have done!” she bellowed, “ _three days,_ Jaime! I was already thinking about how to get Pod out of here safely, how it was probably already too late to save you…”

“Thanks for your faith in me,” he muttered tersely.

“This is not about faith, Jaime! We live in a cruel world! I had to be realistic! I had to be honest with myself that you probably weren’t coming back, and then I would have had to live with the fact that the last words I said to you were done in a temper…”

“And yet here I am, healthy and whole, and you are shouting at me!”

“You deserve it!” she thundered, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “You come back without so much as a word of apology, being all smug and self-assured as usual, where I have been worrying about you for _days,_ torturing myself over our last moments, thinking of what could have been if we had only spoken…”

A suddenly light caught aflame in Jaime’s eyes. “You sound as if you care about me, wench.”

The embarrassment blush was on Brienne’s cheeks before she could stop it, a testament to the shameful, unreciprocated feels for him that she was always failing to push away. Trying to defend herself, she spat, “no I don’t!”

The corners of Jaime’s mouth turned up in a smile as he stepped forward. “Yes you do.”

“No I don’t.”

“Yes you do.”

He took another step forward, drawing perilously close. As she wanted to be a true knight, Brienne was brave and held her ground. “No I don’t.”

And then he was too close to hold back. “Yes you _do_.”

With his only hand, he reached up to the collar of her jerkin and pulled her to him, crashing his lips against her in an artless battle. In all her dreams, Brienne had never imagined the longed for kiss would take place in a cold mountain cave while she was spitting angry at him and they were being stared at by a twelve year old squire. Yet, it was perfect; the way his tongue met hers, the feel of his hair under her fingers, and the overwhelming warmth of him bleeding through to her bones.

When they broke apart, Brienne couldn’t help but smile, and she found it reflected on his face.

“Wench, I think it’s time for food, don’t you?” he said.

“Yes,” she replied meekly, because talking normally had always been too much for the pair of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked that! As ever, I adore comments and kudos!
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	5. Rent-a-Womb: Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne adjusts to life as Jaime's "Baby Mama"...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here is yet another prompt. This one was from wildlingoftarth and requested "6: bookshop fic + 70: locked in a room". As it was so close to what I was planning for Rent-a-Womb: Part II, I just decided to go for it. I hope you enjoy.

When Brienne was forced to root around for a word to describe her current situation, she could only come up with one: _awkward._

It was awkward to tell people about her pregnancy, and then explain she was not actually carrying her own child but acting as a surrogate for a super-rich couple who couldn’t be bothered to do all the heavy lifting themselves. After she had broached that point, Brienne then found it even more awkward to say that the super-rich couple had to remain anonymous, as that only succeeded in sounding like a conspiracy. She also struggled with the awkwardness of not visiting her dad; he was an old fashioned sort of guy and would not understand that she had rented her body out for a quick buck. Furthermore, the shock of it would probably only make his heart condition even worse.

Yet, none of those issues were as awkward as the one that was slowly coming to dominate Brienne’s heart and mind: that she had a _thing_ for Jaime Lannister, and she couldn’t bring herself to shake it off.

Of course, when she had first met him, Brienne had noticed he was incredibly attractive - it was impossible to miss - and she got the strange sense that he often used his pretty eyes and cute dimples to get his own way. Knowing that he likely fell in the category of men who thought they could use their beauty for the own ends on ugly girls like her, Brienne had promised herself that she would be resistant to Jaime’s charms. That had proved totally impossible, however, as during her pregnancy, he had insisted on looking after her and taking care of her like this was a real relationship, as if she was his girlfriend he loved dearly. He cooked for her, drove her places, listened to her problems and offered practical solutions, just like a good boyfriend would. It was _weird_ … but _great_ … but _terrible_ all at the same time. Sometimes, Jaime even made her feel like it was their baby she was carrying, and that one day the two of them would be able to snuggle up together with their child in their arms, marvelling over the miracle they had created together.

 _It’s a beautiful dream,_ she told herself, _but not real._

Brienne had been able to keep her terrifying feelings at bay until the day Jaime had offered her a foot massage. In every place his fingers had danced across her skin, she burned as brightly as a star. Lost to the incredible sensation of his hands on her, Brienne had imagined what it would be like if he touched her elsewhere; on her face, her neck, her breasts, between her thighs. Against her will, her mouth released contented little moans and sighs that told him too much and too little. Perhaps that was why, in the end, Jaime had jumped away from her, making some lame excuse about needing to go to the toilet.

 _He’s disgusted with me,_ she thought sadly, _disgusted that I want him, disgusted that I’ve misconstrued the signs, and most of all disgusted with my ugly face._

Once she had realised where she and Jaime stood, it made it much easier to push him away. As she was only three months pregnant, Brienne could use the excuse that she could manage for herself in the evenings.

_I don’t need him to cook for me. I don’t need him to look after me._

_It doesn’t matter if I want him too._

During the days, Brienne threw herself into working at Seaworth’s bookshop, the first of her two part time jobs, in order to give herself something to do and enable her to ignore all his incessant texts.

 _Jaime:_ You should come around to mine tonight. I want to try making fajitas, and I need a willing test subject.

 _Brienne:_ You know I can’t. I’ve got to do extra hours at Seaworth’s tonight. Davos is going to see _Patchface_ at the Dragonpit, so I need to close up for him.

 _Jaime:_ What time do you finish?

 _Brienne:_ Eight.

 _Jaime:_ Well, I’ll come pick you up then.

 _Brienne:_ No, it’s okay. I can walk.

 _Jaime:_ Like hell I’m going to let you walk. There’s meant to be a pretty terrible storm coming in from the Stormlands later today, and you are in no condition to be trudging through that weather.

 _Brienne:_ I’m only three months pregnant, not paralysed.

 _Jaime:_ Three months pregnant with _our_ baby. I told you, I’m going to look after you.

 _Our baby._ Brienne had never thought that two such simple words would make her heart flutter. However, a moment later, Jaime corrected himself.

 _Jaime:_ When I mean *our* I’m talking about mine and Cersei’s, obvs. You and me would be weird LOL.

 _Yes,_ thought Brienne darkly, _it’s laugh out loud hilarious that we could ever even be a hypothetical pair… hysterical to think that you might want me._

Consequently, she stopped answering him.

 _Jaime:_ I’ll be outside at eight, yeah? Then you can come back to mine and I’ll stuff you with fajitas.

 _Jaime:_ Brienne, can you confirm you will be ready?

 _Jaime:_ Brienne?

In the end, Brienne could not take any more of his well-intentioned but hurtful caring, so she switched her phone off and went back to doing the tedious stock take of all the books on the ground floor of Seaworth’s. Today, she was focused on the fantasy section, meaning she was having to look at the covers and see handsome knights and fair ladies staring mockingly back at her.

 _Oooh, this one is about Jaime and Cersei-like characters,_ she thought, internally torturing herself.

_As is this one…_

_As is this one…_

Nobody ever wrote books about women who looked like Brienne Tarth, because, in the real world, nobody _cared_ about women who looked like Brienne Tarth.

 _And even if they act like they do,_ she thought, _it is only because they are renting out my womb for nine months. Nothing more._

It was the monotonous repetition of the stock take - _check, count, tick -_ that eventually allowed Brienne to push her worries and concerns to the back of her mind and think of something other than Jaime’s green eyes. Indeed, she became so engrossed in her task that she missed the moment it started raining, and only gave a cursory acknowledgement to the weather when the wind lashed against the windows and the thunder started rumbling in the distance.

 _It’s only a bit of rain,_ she thought. _I’ll make sure I am out of here by eight, so I don’t bump into Jaime if he turns up._

Brienne was entirely happy with that plan as the afternoon turned into the evening until, quite suddenly, she heard an almighty smash coming from the basement, all breaking glass and gushing water.

_Oh crap, what was that?_

Abandoning her checklist, Brienne went running down to the basement, quite forgetting to pick up the key. She regretted it the instant she was inside as the door locked shut behind her with a loud _click_. Her mistake was further accentuated by a loud roll of thunder that sounded perilously close. Things then got even worse when she discovered where the noise had come from; it had clearly been raining so hard that the rainwater had guttered down the hill. As Seaworth’s was at the lowest point of Flea Bottom, it seemed the torrent of water had smashed into the basement’s little window, broken the glass, and was now pouring into the shop unabated.

 _The books!_ thought Brienne panickily, as she charged down the stairs and tried to save the stock that Davos had stored in the basement for safe keeping. Working quickly, she began to lift the books of the floor and place them everywhere she could reach - on top of the cabinets, in the cupboards, up on the table - even as water began to pool around her feet, then her ankles, then her knees.

_God, I need to call Davos, this is a nightmare!_

Unfortunately, she had left her phone up in the shop, and had no way of contacting him, so just had to keep doing what she could to make sure the new books were not totally submerged. Moving carefully, for the first time since her agreement with Jaime had started, Brienne appreciated the extra strain put on her body by her pregnancy.

 _Maybe I should let Jaime help me,_ she considered. _Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if I…_

“Brienne?” came a loud voice from up in the shop, “where are you?”

Relief flooding over her, Brienne answered him in an instant. “Jaime! I’m down in the basement! I’m locked in! Can you get the key from the counter?”

“Sure! I’ll be one moment!”

After a few moments of distant shuffling, Brienne eventually heard the click of the lock and the door swing open. Her knight in shining armour - Jaime fricking Lannister of all people - was standing the other side in soaking wet clothes, looking like a drenched god.

“Quick!” she called. “You need to help me! We’ve got to get these books upstairs, otherwise Davos will lose his stock!”

Not waiting to ask why, Jaime was down the stairs in and instant, and the two of them had a chain going before Brienne had time to wonder why it felt so natural; she would take the books of the shelves, and then Jaime would run back up to the shop with them. After twenty minutes of going backwards and forwards up and down the stairs, they had eventually rescued all the books, and had them store safely in a new home. Once she had checked everything upstairs was undamaged, Brienne immediately went to ring Davos, and was glad to get her boss’ assurance that he would be with her as soon as possible. When she hung up, Brienne finally turned to look at Jaime, who was staring at her with bright eyes.

“Right,” he declared, “now you are _definitely_ going to come back to mine and letting me cook you dinner. You’re shivering. It will help warm you up and make you feel better.”

Brienne thought the only thing that would make her feel better in that moment was him wrapping his arms around, but she did not vocalise that sentiment. Instead, she just looked at him sullenly. “No, I need to go back to my flat and check everything is alright. It is in Flea Bottom too.”

“Okay,” said Jaime quickly, clearly trying to be supportive. “I’ll drive you.”

“No, I can…”

“Please, don’t you dare say you can walk. It’s like hurricane season out there. I will drive you, Baby Mama, come on.”

Even as she crumbled internally at the endearing nickname he had just bestowed upon her, Brienne could not find the strength to object; not when Davos arrived and told her she could go home, not when the rain let off slightly, and definitely not when Jaime locked his fingers with hers and led her back out to his flashy car. As they began to drive away from the shop, Brienne was immensely thankful that Jaime turned on the radio and started singing along to some generic pop song in his awful, out of tune voice, because it meant she could smile at him for a reason other than she just _wanted_ to.

Considering the day she had had, Brienne had thought she would be relieved when she got home, as her flat had a door with a lock that she could use to keep Jaime Lannister and his fine eyes at bay. However, it turned out that just as Davos’ bookshop had been taken out by the torrential flooding, so had her tiny little basement flat. Walking into her ruined lounge, her feet making loud splashing sounds, Brienne could not stop the tears coming to her eyes.

 _This is my whole life,_ she despaired, _everything I own in the world…_

Yet, even at that bleak realisation, a spark of hope burned, as Jaime slung his strong arm around her and pulled her close. The sudden physical intimacy felt tantalisingly warm and safe.

“Come on,” Jaime said consolingly, his tone kind and sincere, “let’s try and save what we can, then you can come back to mine and have the spare bed for as long as you need.”

Not wanting to inconvenience him, Brienne tried to object. “I’ll get a hotel,” she claimed instantly, even though she knew she had no money for one, “a hostel, maybe, I’ll…”

Jaime rolled his eyes at her, suddenly irritated. “You’ll let me look after you, that’s what you’ll do! God, stop pushing me away. You have done a wonderful thing for me and Cersei, so I want to be there for you in any way I can. Just accept a bit of kindness, okay?”

 _A bit of kindness?_ thought Brienne blankly, _I’m not used to that._

“Okay,” she replied, defeated by his never-ending warmth.

Utterly charmed by his desire to care for her, Brienne accepted Jaime’s kindness as he helped her pack up her most precious possessions, and then again when he drove them all over to his apartment; she accepted it when he helped her set up her new room, which was plush and extravagant in a way she never thought possible; and when he offered to tumble dry her clothes.

“Just change into something warm, and then come and bring them into the utility room,” he said with a smile, and Brienne found herself obeying in an instant, melting for the simple reason that he was concerned for her. 

When she got back to her new bedroom, Brienne had to admit it felt strange to pull her shirt over her head and shuck her trousers off in Jaime’s apartment. For some reason that only Brienne knew, her skin felt more sensitive and goosebumps prickled down her neck when she remembered that he was not far away, only in the next room, and she was getting naked in his house.

A few minutes later, armed with her wet clothes and a strange sense of guilt, Brienne went to find Jaime. As expected, he was in the utility room putting dirty clothes in the washing machine, including his own. Now dressed in nothing but a pair of comfortable grey slacks, the entirety of Jaime Lannister’s perfectly formed back was visible to Brienne as she entered the room, and it made her feel strangely weak.

 _Those are the kind of back muscles that prove god exists,_ she thought lustily, a blush coming to her cheeks.

The situation only got worse when Jaime turned around, revealing his lovely strong chest complete with a smattering of gold hair. It was as if he had been sculpted by Michelangelo.

 _Who is this man?_ she thought. Not only did he like caring for her, Jaime Lannister was obnoxiously, unjustly beautiful. Due to all the things he was, Brienne’s throat went dry.

“Here are my clothes,” she mumbled, not able to quite look him in the eye.

Jaime smiled at her, perhaps sensing what she was thinking, and reached for the wet clothes. “Thanks,” he said, amusement in his tone. Attempting to hide her embarrassment, Brienne purposefully turned her eyes away from him, landing her gaze on his outstretched arm rather than his face.

And then she saw it.

Halfway up his tempting looking bicep was his soulmark. Over the years, Brienne had seen many people’s soulmarks; in fact, her friend Sansa had been utterly gleeful in showing Brienne hers when she first got it. However, never before in her life had she seen a blue sword that was so obviously a twin to her own.

Shooting him one, quick, panicked look, Brienne turned on her heel and ran out of the room. Jaime just laughed.

“Where are you going?”

“I’ve just got to… err… brush my hair,” she called back, even as her heart hammered so loudly, she could barely hear her own voice.

_Is Jaime my soulmate? He can’t be! He would hate it if he knew!_

_This can’t be possible?_

_Can it?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked that one. As ever, I lurve comments and kudos <3
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	6. Medusa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A murderer sets out to slay a foul beast...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is not from a prompt directly, but a couple of days ago I saw jencat discussing similarities between Brienne/Medusa and how cool it would be to have a Medusa JB fic, so I thought I would give it a go! It is set in weird fairytale Westeros, so I hope you enjoy!
> 
> This is partially inspired by the retelling of the Medusa myth in Ovid's Metamorphoses. Although the first song Brienne sings was written by yours truly, the second is an Irish folk song called "Bunch of Thyme".

Once, there was a murderer, armed with a sword but not the honour of a knight. Although he had forsaken it to save a city, in the eyes of the world, he deserved to be shunned, so he decided to find a way to recover his good name.

Throughout his life, the murderer had heard stories of long journeys, of dangers that were not imaginary ones, of seas and lands that were only known in whispers and words, and of stars only brushed by beating wings. Most of all he had heard of monsters too beastly to be countenanced, too ferocious to be gazed at; snarks and grumpkins, Others and giant spiders, dragons and shadow demons. To regain his good name, he sought out every single one and slew them with his sword, determined that by wiping their darkness from the world he would shine light back onto his own name.

Yet there was one beast more hideous, more monstrous, fouler than any other. The Beast of Tarth had a face so ugly that she had been cursed by the gods for her crime; any man who looked upon her would be turned to stone, as a testament to her terrible visage. Consequently, her father, in terror for every man from the Wall to Sunspear, had locked his monstrous daughter in a tower where no man would be unlucky enough to meet her gaze. It was a blessing and a curse. The murderer thought he would be doing the world a service if he struck the foul beast's head from her shoulders; saving every man from a fate worse than death if he looked upon her, and a father from a lifetime of guilt for bringing such a demon into the world. By smiting such a monster, the murderer was sure to regain his honour and his place in polite society. Once more, he would be a true knight.

Taking a mighty steed, the murderer rode from King's Landing to Storm's End, and from there took a boat to Evenfall Hall, armed just with sword and his resolve at facing such a foe. Yet, to his surprise, when he arrived at her father's gate, the Evenstar would not tolerate suitors, even ones who were to come and relieve him of his great burden.

"They say he imprisons her," said the boatman in his broad country voice, "but that is a lie, ser."

"Is it?" replied the murderer. "Then what is the truth?"

"Lord Selwyn loves his daughter and wants to protect her from those who would hurt her."

* * *

The hideous beast stayed in her tower, partly to save her own blushes but mostly to protect any man that would be her suitor from having to suffer her presence. The first betrothed had died soon after meeting the Evenstar's heir, that the servants gossiped was caused by him seeing a monster's ugly face. The second gave her a rose and called her a freak, while the third had refused to wed such a broken woman. After three failed matches, the rumours had spread - the Evenstar's daughter was deformed, she had snakes in her hair, that she had been born a beast as a punishment for her father, and men would turn to stone if they looked at her - and she had begun to believe them.

The only comfort the beast had in her tower room was swinging her sword in shapes and patterns that would make her feel graceful, yet if any man would see her doing such a thing, she knew they would deem her even more freakish than she already was. Indeed, the only scrap of beauty the world afforded her was her voice, which enabled her to sing sweet songs of knights, ladies, and their valour - the kind of people she imagined she could join.

_"What is beauty but a dream?_

_Made for spring and summer days._

_Beauty is so much less than it seems,_

_For when winter comes, it goes away."_

Her father had warned her of the new suitor who had approached, a vain and arrogant man known only as the Kingslayer, but he had reassured her that he would protect her from his schemes at all cost. The beast had to believe in his promises, because otherwise the world was relentlessly dark, devoid of all light. That was too monstrous a thought to countenance.

* * *

As the murderer waited under her tower window, making his plans for assault, a worrying thought struck him. Growing up, he had always believed that it was sirens who were able to sing and lull sailors to their doom, yet the Beast of Tarth sang so melodiously that it seemed a siren's call. She sang of sad things, of loneliness and prison - things that touched at his soul - and the murderer could only listen in wonder. Her song was strangely beautiful, fragile, and delicate, and incongruous with the tales he had heard; that she had snakes in her hair that terrified her enemies and numbed them with fear until they were as still as statues. The murderer thought it was cruel to wipe such beauty from the world, but once he remembered she was ugly, he had no such qualms.

His route into the tower was easily bought; a serving girl with an easy smile and an easier manner had given him the key in exchange for a kiss. On opening the door, he raised his sword aloft. Widow's Wail would have to be renamed once he took the foul beast's head; such a noble knight deserved a legendary sword. _Beast Slayer. Avenger. Medusa._

As he climbed the stairs, he could hear her singing; haunting, beguiling, and melancholic.

_"Come all you maidens young and fair,_

_All you that are blooming in your prime,_

_Always beware, and keep your garden fair,_

_Let no man steal away your thyme."_

Nevertheless, he would sever the throat that brought such music into the world, to save his name from ignominy, and to liberate the world from a demon. Yet it was not his blade that silenced her song, but his boot as he kicked open the door to her chamber.

"Be quiet, foul..." he attempted to scream, but he found himself stalling. For, just as the world called him honourless, they called her ugly. If anything was monstrous, it was that lie, for he found himself looking into the pair of the most stunning sapphire eyes.

In his shock, he turned to stone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! If you did, please let me know in a lovely comment!
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	7. A Cultural Misunderstanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ms Tarth takes seven sixth formers north of the Wall for their Indigenous Cultures course. To her horror, she is accompanied by Mr Lannister the PE teacher. Chaos ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, thanks for coming back!
> 
> The prompt for this one was from Onlyjaimebrienne and they asked "Teacher AU + Accidentally Married please :D ♡".
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Ms Brienne Tarth, recent winner of _The Westerosi Educational's Most Inspirational History Teacher Award,_ was immensely grateful for several things; firstly, that the new head teacher of King's Landing High, Ms Stark, had given her the funding to run an indigenous cultures qualification for her brightest pupils; secondly, that Catelyn had allowed her to take them on a weekend north of the Wall, to really experience the cultures they had spent so long researching, and finally, that she would not have to drive the minibus herself.

What she was not pleased about, however, was that Catelyn had insisted that, if Brienne wanted to take seven pupils away, there needed to be a second teacher going with her in order to adhere to child protection rules. As she could not bear having two of her pupils miss out, Brienne threw herself into finding a suitable candidate, which turned out to be more difficult than she first suspected.

On hearing Catelyn's order, Brienne had hoped she would be able to persuade Mr Baratheon the drama teacher to come with her; even though she knew he was _hella_ gay, he was pretty to look at, and would make a fun companion for the weekend. However, he was off for a weekend in Dorne with his boyfriend, and only left her with profuse apologies. She had then attempted to butter up Mr Hunt the chemistry teacher, who she had sort of being flirting with for a few months, but he had made some lame excuse about wanting to watch some football game at the pub that weekend. Stuck in a real predicament, Brienne had ended up complaining to Miss Tyrell the Maths teacher one lunchtime.

"I need someone who is available for four days over next weekend, who can drive the minibus _and_ is somewhat interested in indigenous cultures or the whole thing is cancelled," she said despairingly. "I've tried both Renly and Hyle and they are both busy, and I know you don't have a minibus license, so I don't know who to ask..."

"I have a minibus license," came a taunting voice. "You could always ask me."

Suppressing an eye roll, Brienne turned around to look at Mr Lannister, the PE teacher. As ever, he was wearing a flaming red tracksuit and a teasing glint in his eye. She didn't like his expression, and she didn't like _him,_ because, since the first day she had arrived at King's Landing High, he had wasted no time in making himself a pain in the arse.

"No," she said breezily, "I'd rather ask the Night King himself to drive the minibus than you."

Jaime stepped forward so he was a _little_ too close, cocking an eyebrow at her. "Why? I'm an excellent driver. And... you never know... you might enjoy my company."

Brienne outright snorted at that. "Oh yes, I would just _love_ to spend the weekend with the man who questioned whether I was actually a woman the first time we met, and then at last year's Christmas party offered to fling me down and make me feel like a woman in the middle of the dance floor. I'm sure I wouldn't have to spend all weekend resisting the urge to punch him _at all."_

"I like a strong woman, Tarth," he grinned. "I've told you before, if you want to get your aggression out, you are more than welcome to come and train with me down at the gym, where I'll let you vent all the frustration you want on me."

Brienne knew she did not want to get into another row with Jaime in front of all the other teachers - they all thought they had a _thing_ going on at the best of times, mostly due to the time she saved him from a biker gang outside the school one day, and he returned to favour by protecting her from a rather aggressive badger - so she just turned back to Margaery, determined not to give him the time of day.

"My answer is _no_ Mr Lannister. I'll find someone else."

* * *

The problem was, there wasn't someone else, so come the following weekend, Brienne found herself stuck in the front passenger seat of the school minibus with Jaime Lannister driving, and seven excitable teenagers in the back. The journey from King's Landing to the Wall was _long,_ and Jaime made it no better by sticking on the latest _Patchface_ album and leading a sing-along.

_"The shadows come to dance, my lord_

_Dance my lord, dance my lord._

_The shadows come to stay, my lord_

_Stay my lord, stay my lord."_

As Myrcella took over to mime the dramatic guitar solo in the middle, Jaime turned to Brienne. "Come on, why don't you sing, wench? It's fun."

"Firstly," she growled, trying to keep her voice low so her students did not hear, "my name is Brienne, not wench. And secondly, we still have _eight more hours_ of this journey. I don't like _Patchface_ at the best of times, but especially not with you screaming it in my ear."

"Okay," he said a little defeatedly, "I only asked if you wanted to join in."

After that, Jaime made no more attempts to get her to join in with any mad scheme, and they only really conversed when he led the teenagers out to grab some snacks from _The Crossroads Inn,_ and he bought her back a sandwich. Although she meant to, Brienne barely had time to say thank you, because her students were having a heated debate about their upcoming weekend.

"That is such a racist thing to say," squawked Sansa at her younger sister, Arya, who was busy blowing bubbles bigger than her head.

The second the latest one burst, Arya rolled her eyes. "It's just a word, Sansa."

"But they prefer being called the freefolk. Wildling is a derogatory term."

"Then why are we going on a tour literally called _Wildling Tours?"_ asked Gendry confusedly.

Shireen shrugged. "Maybe it's good publicity."

"Or maybe they're just not bothered about being called wildlings," retorted Arya.

Brienne turned around as Jaime kicked the minibus into life, trying to turn this into a genuine debate. "This might be an interesting question to discuss for your upcoming coursework. Perhaps you could all get together and compile a questionnaire to ask any of the freefolk who would be willing to participate once we get north of the Wall. It could serve as a real insight into cultural identity and outside perceptions."

"Yes!" squawked Rosamund, Myrcella's best friend, "we were struggling to come up with a question. Pod, will you help us?"

"Okay," replied the shyest member of the group, getting out his notebook and pen, clearly a little overawed that the two blonde girls were paying him any attention.

When most of the group were distracted putting together a makeshift questionnaire, Jaime turned down the music and leaned across to Brienne. "That was a great teaching moment there, wench. I'm really impressed."

Brienne shot him a filthy look. "How many times? My name is _Brienne."_

* * *

They spent the first night in a kitschy hotel just outside Castle Black. Once Brienne had made sure all her students had eaten and were firmly tucked up in their beds, she retreated into her own room, got into her comfy pyjamas and sat down to watch _Mean Maidens_ on her laptop. She had only just got to the part where Lady Cady Heron was describing her unusual childhood being home-schooled in Sothyros, when there was a knock on the door. Huffing in irritation, Brienne stopped the film, pulled her dressing gown on and went to answer it. Sansa and Arya were both seventeen and sixteen respectively; she did not really want to spend all evening stopping the pair of them arguing...

To her surprise, it was Jaime. When she opened the door, he grinned at her widely and leant against the doorframe, like a terrible date might do in a romcom. At his sudden closeness, Brienne realised he had changed out of the comfortable tracksuit he had been wearing all day into a pair of nice jeans and a crisp shirt. He even smelt suspiciously of cologne.

"Hey, _Brienne,"_ he said, forcefully emphasising her name. "I..."

"What do you want?" she snapped, not really having time for his silly games. It was bad enough that he was ridiculously handsome (and ridiculously smug about it too); he didn't have to rub her face in it. It only highlighted what she was. Ugly.

Making his expression more serious, Jaime said gently, "well, I just thought... as all our students are in bed, whether you wanted to go down to the bar and have a drink with me? It would be nice to have a little adult time, don't you think?"

Even though the thought of _adult time_ with Jaime made Brienne blush, she still shook her head. "No thanks. I'm watching _Mean Maidens."_

The corners of his mouth turned up in a smile. "You can watch _Mean Maidens_ any time. Come and have a drink with me."

Sure he was making fun of her with his shining eyes, his nice shirt, and his rather intoxicating cologne, Brienne just scowled at him. "No," she snarled, before slamming the door in his face.

* * *

On day two of their trip to the North, the indigenous cultures class were taken up the Wall by their freefolk tour guides, Ygritte and Mance. While Mance told stories about brave heroes from long ago climbing the Wall and regaled the excited class with stories of Bael the Bard, Ygritte was more interested in impressing Sansa and Arya with information about contemporary freefolk culture.

"You know we're not all about women stealing and raiding anymore," she said proudly, as the whole group stood atop the Wall, gazing out across the world. "We've got a really cool bar in Whitetree called _The Winter Rose._ It's up there with anything you might find in King's Landing."

Happy that her students were listening with rapt attention to people as knowledgeable about their culture as Mance and Ygritte, Brienne turned her attention to the view, wanting to get lost in the extraordinary beauty of the view of the lands both side of the Wall. Everything looked so peaceful in the snow, and sound was so muffled by that never-ending fluffy blanket that Brienne wondered if this was the only place in the world one could encounter true silence.

Jaime, of course, naturally wanted to challenge that assumption.

"Wench?"

She did not answer him, but instead stared out at a little dot in the distance that she assumed was Winterfell.

"Wench?"

 _I'm not going to answer him,_ she thought sullenly. _Not when he won't even use my name._

"Oh, alright, _Brienne."_

"What?" she snapped, annoyed that he was disturbing her peace.

Pouting slightly, as if he was confused by her reaction, Jaime eventually said, "you know, we're staying at Whitetree tonight."

"I know," she replied slowly, not sure what he was getting at. "I organised the itinerary."

His voice softened in the face of her evident bewilderment. "I realise that, it's just... did you hear what Ygritte said about Whitetree?"

"No?"

"They've got a nightclub, wench," Jaime said, his smile growing. "The students are all over sixteen, so maybe once they are all tucked up in bed we could go out and have a dance."

Brienne rolled her eyes. It was just the type of shit attractive boys used to pull on her at school, when they were determined to make fun of Big Brienne. "Why are you always single-minded about mocking me, huh, Lannister? What have I ever done to you?"

His eyes went very wide at that question. "What? I'm not mocking you..."

"Don't lie, I know you are," she hissed. "You spend years calling me wench, asking me to come and wrestle you at your gym, and telling me my thighs look strong enough to crack open nuts, and then, once you get me alone in the North, you ask me for drinks and to go dancing with you. I don't like being made fun of, okay? So, I would appreciate it if you say as little as possible to me until we get back to King's Landing, and from then on don't talk to me at all. You've made it very clear you don't like me, so can you _please_ stop goading me?"

To her surprise, Jaime had gone a little pale. "Wench, I..."

"It's not _wench,_ okay, Mr Lannister? How many times?"

It was only when a little snow was dislodged by her voice that Brienne realised she was shouting at him. She was being so loud that all her students, Ygritte and Mance, and even a couple of Essosi tourists with selfie sticks were staring at her. The thought that once again she had given people reason to think that she and Jaime had a _thing_ made her go violently red; it was so ludicrous, so ridiculous that she wanted to scream.

When she shot Jaime a quick glance, she saw he looked a little anguished. "Brienne, I'm sorry if I've done anything to upset you..."

"That's always the way with you," she snapped, keeping her voice low, "you can never admit when you are in the wrong, never truly take responsibility for what you've done. I've had enough of your rudeness!"

Without another word she marched away, determined to walk all the way to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea if it meant escaping Jaime and his burning gaze.

* * *

To Brienne's immense relief, Jaime did not attempt to talk to her for the rest of the day; not as they climbed down the Wall, nor when they arrived at their hotel, nor at dinner, nor before she locked herself in her hotel room. Their students still stared at them, and whispered things she couldn't hear to Ygritte and Mance, but Brienne thought it was better than actually having to talk to Jaime, so she put up with it.

It was only the following day that Brienne started to feel guilty. On the bus journey from Whitetree to Craster's Keep - an authentically restored traditional freefolk village that they were going to be staying at for their last night - Jaime just stared out the window looking morose, even as Mance told them monstrous tales of the legendary Craster, who used to sacrifice his male children to the Others.

 _Maybe I hurt him,_ thought Brienne confusedly. _Maybe Jaime's more sensitive than I thought. Maybe I should find some way to apologise later..._

Those worries kept whipping around her mind like a snowstorm until they got to Craster's Keep, where Ygritte and Mance gave the group a tour of the village, telling them all about traditional freefolk love, courting and marriage practices. Brienne was barely listening, however, as her eyes were on Jaime. He was hovering at the edge of the group looking almost crestfallen, clearly not listening to Ygritte and Mance's information either.

 _Why does he look so upset?_ she kept asking herself. _He hates me. Why would he care if I shout at him?_

"Right," came Ygritte's voice from nowhere. "I think Ms Tarth and Mr Lannister will be the best candidates for a demonstration of this tradition. Don't you?"

As all seven of her students cheered, Brienne's attention was suddenly pulled out of thinking about how the hell she was going to apologise to Jaime, and onto whatever Ygritte had been demonstrating. Wanting to show her students she really _had_ been listening to the tour (the reason they were all here), Brienne nodded instantly. "Of course. I'm sure Mr Lannister would agree too, wouldn't he?"

"Yes, I suppose," he said, his voice devoid of its usual spark and verve. To her surprise, it made Brienne feel very sad. However, she could not dwell on that for too long, as Ygritte had taken her hand and was marching her through Craster's Keep while Mance was doing the same to Jaime. Before long, they arrived at a little clearing to the west of the main holding, where there stood a heart tree with a bleeding face. All of Brienne's students were laughing uproariously, especially when a group of musicians turned up carrying drums and bagpipes.

"What are you all laughing at?" asked Jaime suspiciously.

"Nothing," grinned Arya mischievously, "we just love seeing culture in action, that's all."

A few moments later, a blonde haired woman who introduced herself as Val appeared, carrying a rope and a knife. Wanting to appear enthusiastic, Brienne did not ask any questions as Val tied the rope around her left wrist and put the blade in her right. Jaime was not in such an acquiescent mood, however.

"What are you doing?" he inquired, as Val put the other end of the rope in his hand.

"Oh," she smiled sweetly as the students started sniggering once more, "this is just a freefolk custom to remember that our ancestors used to be raiders and reavers in every sense of the word; of cattle, of sheep, of _women..."_

At that moment, the music started up, almost muffling Jaime's following question. "What do we need to do to take part?"

"You just both walk up to the heart tree together. Brienne, if you do not wish to honour this tradition, you cut the rope binding you to Jaime. If you have not done so by the time you reach the tree, Jaime will remove the knife from your hand and throw it to the floor. Then the honouring is done."

That did not sound too hard and, as it seemed to be amusing her students, Brienne let Jaime lead her up to the heart tree, her eyes on the pale white bark and the red eyes of the weirwood. In fact, the only time she looked at him was after he took the knife from her hand, as the moment they touched was so electric it felt as if he had burned her. Gazing into his eyes, for a horrible, terrifying moment, Brienne wondered whether he had felt it too.

She did not get an opportunity to ask, however, as the whole town erupted with cheers and traditional music.

* * *

The rest of the evening felt odd. Although all her students were having a great time trying traditional freefolk food, dancing, and music, Brienne sat to one side, not quite sure what to do with herself. The longer the day went on, the more she became convinced that she had actually upset Jaime on the Wall and felt the pressing need to apologise.

 _Why do I care what he thinks?_ she kept asking herself. _Why do I care?_

Eventually, after several glasses of what Ygritte described as _wildling rum,_ Brienne eventually got the confidence to cross the clearing towards the table where Jaime sat alone, drinking something that look suspiciously like fermented milk. Knowing that if she stopped for a second she would lose all her courage, Brienne threw herself into the seat beside him and blurted out what she had been dying to say all day.

"I'm sorry I've been such a bitch to you since we came North," she rambled. "I know you didn't _have_ to come on this trip with me, and were only doing me a favour, so... I'm sorry. I will try to be better in the future. I just don't know how to deal with... _you."_

At that simple statement, he looked up at her, his eyes flashing. "What do you mean you don't know how to deal with me?"

Due to the alcohol muddling her mind, Brienne couldn't really find the words. "Well... you've always been you. _Jaime Lannister_. You're blond and you're arrogant and you're _hot_ and you don't know when to keep your mouth shut. It's infuriating."

A blush suddenly came to his cheeks. "You think I'm hot, Tarth?"

"I... I... I..."

Brienne did not have time to answer that question, however, as just then, Ygritte's hand appeared on her shoulder, pulling her to her feet, while Mance did the same to Jaime. "Come on, Ms Tarth," said the wildling girl, a glint in her eye. "We've got to finish the ceremony."

Even though Ygritte and the others were pulling her along, Brienne felt strangely distant from the whole occasion as it slowly dawned on her that the crowd had naturally divided itself into two; the men gathered around Jaime, the women crowded around her. With the sounds of drums and pipes ringing in her ears, Brienne found herself being dragged to a nearby tent, where she was immediately swarmed by everyone's greedy hands.

"Hey!" she cried, as Ygritte, Arya, and Myrcella pulled her jacket off her shoulders, "what is going on?"

"We're getting you ready for the final part of the ceremony!" smiled Val, as if the answer was obvious.

Feeling a little tipsy (and wanting to be culturally sensitive), Brienne let the wildling women strip her down to her underwear and then smear random symbols in blue woad on her face, back, and chest. Once they were done, Brienne decided to press them for information. "So... what is the final part of the ceremony?"

"Consummation, of course!" replied Val cheerfully, as Brienne just looked at her confusedly.

"Consummation of what?"

While the wildling women just stared at each other as if Brienne had just asked a very stupid question, her students giggled. Eventually, it was Arya who broke the tension.

"Why, of your marriage, of course!"

"Marriage, I..."

In spite of her alcohol befuddled brain, the picture suddenly came blindingly into view; the rope, the knife, the weirwood, the stealing, the songs...

 _Oh god,_ she thought suddenly, _I just got married to Jaime Lannister!_

"I can't be married!" she squawked, horrified at what she had unwittingly done. "He wouldn't want me! This is ridiculous! Jaime would never give me the time of day, Jaime would..."

"Oh that's such rubbish!" laughed Ygritte, "he's been undressing you with his eyes all the way from the Wall!"

"What?" asked Brienne confusedly, not believing this could possibly be true. Jaime Lannister was hot and Brienne Tarth... was not. "That's ridiculous, that's..."

She did not have time to voice any more objections however because, with one violent shove, the Stark girls found their sisterhood once more in bundling Brienne through a hidden flap of the tent. On entering, Brienne found herself in a new area that had a very large pile of furs in the middle of the room, which looked suspiciously bed like. Feeling trapped by the giggling of her students and the wildling women on the other side of the material, Brienne turned around to look away from them. She regretted it in an instant, however, as, just at that moment, a half-naked Jaime was shoved into the room too from a flap on the other side, also covered in paint and looking horrified.

Even though she knew this situation was very, _very_ bad, Brienne could not help but feel her throat go dry at the sight of him. She had always suspected underneath his clothes he would be very toned,and her suspicion proved to be true. In fact, the fantasy had nothing on the reality.

"Wench," Jaime croaked eventually, his eyes locked on her and nothing else. "It's cold in here."

"Yes," she agreed, nervously trying to cover herself from his gaze, even as her whole body burned with something other than shame.

At her response, Jaime swallowed so deeply she saw his Adam's Apple bob up and down in his throat. "Do you want to get under the furs? It might be warmer." Brienne was aware that was a tremendously silly idea but, even so, moments later she found herself bundled under the furs with him, trying to resist reaching out and greedily pulling his beautiful body close to her.

For a few moments, they just sat in silence, attempting to find the words.

"So," Jaime eventually managed to say. "Pod tells me that we have just been married in the traditional wildling way."

"Yep," replied Brienne nervously, not quite looking at him. "And apparently this is the point when we're meant to con... con... con..."

"Consummate it?" Jaime supplied.

"Yep," she agreed, even as she flushed. He was so very close and so very warm that Brienne feared she would light up like a firework if they stayed like this much longer. Perhaps sensing her fears, Jaime laid back, letting the furs fall to reveal his perfect chest smattered with golden hair, and a very prominent man v that pointed just _there._ If Brienne felt tipsy before, now she was positively drunk.

"Well," Jaime said casually, "I can think of worse ways to end my weekend north of the Wall."

Pulling her eyes away from his chest, Brienne gazed into his eyes, conveying with her expression that she thought he was insane. "What? There can't be anything worse than being tricked into marriage with me by a bunch of wildlings and our sixth formers?"

Jaime chuckled. "I think the correct term is freefolk, wench."

Previously, _wench_ had irritated Brienne no end, but now they were half-naked under furs together, it felt like the only proper way for Jaime to address her. "I don't care," she spluttered, "please give me one reason why this is not an absolute disaster."

Jaime's eyes suddenly went very soft, sucking in all the limited light in the tent. "Well... I don't think having sex with Brienne Tarth would be such a terrible thing. In fact, I think I would quite enjoy it."

 _He really must be drunk,_ she thought.

"Don't be ridiculous," she barked, half outraged that he was daring to say something so suggestive. "You've hated me since the moment we first met."

At that comment, Jaime just looked confused. "Why do you think that?" he asked, seeming genuinely perplexed.

"You never stop being rude to me!" she declared. "Questioning whether I'm actually a woman, saying you want to throw me down and rip off my clothes, and that stupid thing you said about my thighs being so strong they could crack a nut."

In the limited light afforded by the moon and the few torches outside, Brienne could see that Jaime's expression suddenly became very vulnerable. Expelling a breath he had clearly been holding since being pushed into the room, Jaime looked deeply into her eyes and murmured, "have you considered I might just be really bad at flirting?"

He spoke so quietly that it took a few moments for Brienne's brain to register what he had said. When she did, her mouth dropped open. "Now you are just joking with me."

"I'm not joking," he said earnestly, his green eyes sparkling as he reached out and took her hand. It was so warm that Brienne did not flinch away. "I came on this weekend not to do you a favour but to spend some time with you... to get to know you a little. I tried to get you to come for a drink with me a Castle Black, and then out for a dance at Whitetree because I'm _interested,_ wench, and I have been for... god knows how long."

In any other situation, Brienne would have been convinced he was lying, but Jaime was staring at her with such sincerity that she had to consider he was telling her the truth. "But you are always rude to me..." she began, her voice failing.

"I asked whether you were a man because I couldn't believe someone as strong as you was a woman," he said, his cheeks reddening and his voice becoming huskier by the second. "And I said that thing about throwing you down and ripping off your clothes because... if you want me to do that, I... I... would be honoured."

For months Brienne had been ignoring Margaery and the other teachers' suggestions that her and Mr Lannister had a _thing_ but, now they were here, it seemed blatantly obvious they did. Perhaps she had been so rude to him because she really, really wanted him, and believed wholeheartedly that he could never want her back.

"You... you... can't just discard what you said about my thighs though," she said as her last line of defence, "that really _was_ rude."

At that, Jaime sat up and moved so close that his chest hair was brushing her arm. Brienne knew she would never be strong enough to move away, especially when he brought his mouth close to her ear so he could whisper to her. "I was _impressed,"_ he purred, "and... if you must know... I have a frequent fantasy about having them both pinned either side of my head, holding me in place."

_Oh._

Drawing back to look at him, Brienne noticed that Jaime was just as flushed as she felt, and he was breathing heavily. Suddenly very thankful for the alcohol, Brienne knew she no longer had the strength to continue to confuse hatred for desire, so ended up blurting, "you know, Mr Lannister, I don't think _that_ would technically count as consummation. So... if you wanted... we could still get it on and be unmarried in the morning."

A lustful smile bloomed on his handsome face. "Well, Ms Tarth, that sounds just..."

She never did get to hear how Jaime's sentence finished, as Brienne had smashed her lips against his and then pushed him back onto the furs, kissing and kissing until they were both moaning, and she could taste blood.

And then she stole him, wildling style.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you liked it, please consider leaving comments and kudos!
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	8. Kingslayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne goes into the godswood to find Jaime...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... wildlingoftarth asked for "War AU + Love Confession".
> 
> This is not *quite* a War AU, but a different version of Battle of the Dawn from S8 based on a theory that I saw floating around the internet. As ANYTHING is better than what JB content the show gave us in the latter half of S8, I hope you enjoy. Angst follows. I’m sorry!

Brienne had always thought godswoods were holy places; silent and sincere, apart from the whispers of something beyond. Yet, at the height of the Battle for the Dawn, it was alive with the sound of fear, of the crunch of boots against the snow, and the almost imperceptible call of death. Having lost Jaime in the fracas of battle, Brienne had desperately gone in search of him and ultimately concluded that there was only one place he would be; in the godswood, under the heart tree next to Bran Stark, protecting the boy with his blade to pay for the fact that once he only brought injury and hurt. As she cut her way through flesh and bone, Brienne wondered whether Jaime saw his noble duty as penance or punishment.

She was finally free to make her way to the godswood when all the dead dropped to the ground at once, telling Brienne instantly that the Night King was gone, and the living had won. Running as if her boots floated on air, Brienne arrived in the grove to find a small crowd had just gathered; Jon Snow, Arya Stark, and Podrick Payne. There was also the dead to contend with, however, as just in front of Bran Stark laid Theon Greyjoy, his eyes glassy and empty.

 _Perhaps it was him that finally ended it,_ she wondered, _perhaps it was him who saved mankind._

Searching for answers, Brienne looked desperately between the living. “What happened?”

As Jon and Podrick shared an uneasy expression, Bran spoke, his voice emotionless. “Jaime Lannister is finally deserving of his nickname.”

And then she saw him; just under the heart tree, his face pale and wan, was Jaime, a jagged ice weapon brutally thrust into his chest. She feared he was dead, but it suddenly became apparent he was clinging to life as, at the mention of his name - _Jaime -_ he turned his head to look at them all, his green eyes filled with pain and strange acceptance.

“No!” Brienne shouted, suddenly putting it all together. _No! No! No!_

Dashing to his side, Brienne was down on the ground in an instant, pulling him into her arms and rocking him gently. The gesture seemed to soothe him, even more so when she brushed his once gold hair out of his eyes. That simple act revealed his most beloved face to her, and at the sight of how terrible he looked, it made Brienne sob.

“Jaime,” she cried, “Jaime… what have you done?”

“So, it’s Jaime now is it?” he asked, a touch of his old humour in his tone. “Not Kingslayer? Not Ser Jaime?”

“No, because you are none of those things. You are Jaime. Just Jaime.”

He smiled and, for half a second, Jaime Lannister is happier than she has ever seen him. “And you are just Brienne, and here we are, the two of us, at the dawn of a new world… but only you will get to see it.”

“Don’t say that,” she croaked, choked by her tears. “We’ll find a maester! We’ll get you better! We’ll…”

“And waste what little time we have left?” he replied, his voice soft. “No, Brienne. Let’s not do that…”

“What do you want, then?” she asked, desperate for his last moments to be beautiful. Suddenly conscious that she may be the last human face her beloved would ever see, she turned to look at the others, wondering if any of the others would serve that role better than ugly, unlovable Brienne of Tarth. However, Jaime’s hand came to her face, cupping her cheek as he turned her back to gaze at him.

“I want to be held in the arms of the woman I love,” he smiled, his expression almost dreamy even though he must be in severe pain and just clinging onto the world. The weight of his statement made Brienne realise that she was about to be hit by a double heartbreak; her beloved dying and, in his last moments, calling out for another woman.

“She’s in King’s Landing,” Brienne said sadly, unable to say his sister’s name. “I’m sorry I cannot fly her here to be with you.”

If he was not in the middle of dying, Brienne would have thought Jaime rolled his eyes at her exposed sadness. “She’s not in King’s Landing, wench. She’s in the Winterfell godswood, with snowflakes in her hair, gazing at me with the most astonishing blue eyes in the world, and in possession of an unrelenting stubborn belief in me that I’ve never deserved. And her name is Brienne. Brienne of Tarth.”

Brienne swallowed, barely able to believe it could be true. Yet she knew this was no time for doubt, as the sands of the hourglass were draining away. “And the man I love is here too, and his name is Jaime. He used to be known as the Kingslayer for all the wrong reasons, but now it will be a name that makes him a hero. Jaime Lannister slayed the Night King, and his song will be sung for thousands of years, for he is a man of honour, in every sense of the word.”

“Once, my name would have been important to me, Brienne,” he whispered, his voice fading with every world. “But now… if it’s the last chance… there’s only one thing I want.”

“What?” she asked, almost unable to see him through his tears.

“To finish the song,” he said wistfully. “The valiant knight desires a kiss from his lady.”

Brienne could not deny him anything. Even though her lips were chapped, she was covered in blood and dirt, and had no experience, the lady kissed her knight with everything she had, hoping to impart all the love she felt for him in that simple meeting of lips. It seemed to work because, when she broke the kiss, Brienne discovered he was smiling, all the light of the world in his eyes.

“I love you, Lady Brienne,” he whispered, fading fast.

“I love you too, Ser Jaime.”

And then he slipped away, as quickly and as easily as going to sleep, and Brienne was left with nothing but her grief - instant and terrible and choking - that she feared she would never have any respite from.

Unless, of course, she sang their song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that! If you did, please leave comments and kudos!
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	9. Her Beloved Gay Husband

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne has to jump on a grenade for her best friend Renly...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I got this very specific prompt from ulmo80 on tumblr:
> 
> "This is from the tweeter of CloseTheDoorPodcast (7:35 a. m. · 28 nov. 2019): "This is it, guys. This is the JB AU we deserve: "I was in Oklahoma, and taking one of my soldiers who just came out ta a gay club. Met a super cool drag queen, who took me home to meet his pretend wife. She thought I was gay, didn't realize I was hitting on her..We celebrate fifteen years next month". I can't include the link .-("
> 
> I hope you enjoy my interpretation of that!

Renly was always doing crap like this; going to gay bars to perform his drag act and then coming home in the early hours with a poor baby gay who looked like he needed a bit of comfort. This time, he had really outdone himself as her fake husband had chosen two impossibly handsome soldiers who were now sitting in Renly and Brienne’s shared lounge drinking beer, while Brienne herself hid in the kitchen.

“Ivana Fallova is kind and caring,” Renly said as he took his wig off, “she wouldn’t leave those two at _The Plump Peach_ alone, not when it was their first time.”

“Why not?” huffed Brienne. “Ivana abandoned me on my first time at _The Plump Peach_ and didn’t give two shits; what is so special about them?”

Renly raised an eyebrow at her. “I’m sorry, my darling wifey, but I know you can take care of yourself. These two are just such snacks that if I didn’t help them out, they would have been eaten alive by all the hungry gays at _The Plump Peach_.”

Brienne sighed at him knowingly. “Which one do you fancy, Ren?”

“Oh, definitely the one with the brown curls,” grinned Renly. “His name is Loras and, darling, I think he might be the One.”

“You think every poor twink you bring home from _The Plump Peach_ is the One, Ren. What makes him any different?”

“His eyes are like liquid gold?” Renly tried.

“No.”

“He’s got really nice abs?”

“No.”

Renly rolled his eyes. “Okay, he’s actually into medieval jousting, Brienne. He does something interesting as a hobby and I’m intrigued, okay? Is that acceptable enough, wifey?”

Brienne smiled. “That’s acceptable. You know I want you to be happy.”

“Thanks, babe,” he replied, pulling her into a quick hug, his cheek pressed against hers. “I want you to be happy too.”

As she hugged him, Brienne did not tell him that she knew that was an impossibility. She knew what would make her content; a man who loved her, who she could love back. Unluckily for her, however, she had been born with an unfortunate face, and, consequently, the closest she had ever been able to get to someone who loved her was her gay best friend who used her as a beard to keep up appearances with his homophobic brothers.

When they broke apart, Renly was giving her a calculating smile, “but tonight I need a favour.”

“Okay,” sighed Brienne again, “but you don’t have to tell me. I know what you are going to ask.”

“What?” asked Renly, as if he was genuinely curious.

“You are going to ask me to distract the handsome blond one while you get your claws into little Loras.”

Renly looked momentarily guilty, “you know me too well.”

“Indeed I do,” smiled Brienne affectionately, before turning to go into the living room. However, before she did, she turned around and gazed at Renly once more. “Anything I should know about him?”

“Other than he’s a blond pretty boy who would be just your type if he wasn’t gay?” asked Renly teasingly, removing his fake boobs from his dress.

Shooting a look at the man through the crack in the door, Brienne could not help but think he was her type even though he was gay. He was beautiful in an easy, lithe way that could not be smudged away by the fact he looked a little tired or that he was no longer twenty-one. Indeed, Brienne found that the man in question had clearly lived a life made him even more appealing. It was just a shame she did not have a chance in hell.

“What’s his name again?” she asked Renly, as he finally took off his heavy earrings with an exhausted sigh.

“Jaime,” replied Renly. “Apparently, Jaime is Loras’ commanding officer and they’ve just come back from deployment to Slaver’s Bay after the humanitarian crisis there. On the last day of their tour, Loras came out, so Jaime decided to bring him to _The Plump Peach_ to celebrate, I suppose. Solidarity between us gay guys is all important you know, so I think that’s the situation between them. I would be surprised if there hasn’t been some simmering sexual tension between them in Meereen though; they’re both so gosh darn beautiful it would be hard to resist.”

Chuckling to herself, Brienne got two cans of gin and tonic out of the fridge - one for herself, one for Renly - before making her way to the door again, Renly behind her. As they entered the room, both Loras and Jaime looked up; while Loras’ gaze immediately leapt to Renly, Jaime’s eyes rolled over Brienne from head to toe, before finally watching her with an expectant expression.

Brienne swallowed heavily. He really was devilishly handsome.

“Loras, Jaime,” began Renly, “this is my housemate Brienne. I call her wifey because we both pretend that she’s my girlfriend when my brothers come to stay.”

At the introduction, Loras’ gaze momentarily left Renly and fell on Brienne. The second it did, his eyes went very wide. “She’s a very big beard, isn’t she?”

 _Here we go,_ she thought sadly. _A giantess. A hag. Ugly. Brienne the Beauty._ She had heard them all before, but it didn’t make them sting any less. Tired of it all, Brienne did not even go to respond. To her surprise, however, Jaime filled the silence.

“It’s because she works out a lot, I imagine,” he said, his green eyes trained on her and not Loras. “I bet she could bench press you into oblivion, Tyrell, and probably sling me over her shoulder and carry me wherever she wants. Isn’t that right, wench?”

Folding her arms across her chest at this new ignoble nickname - _wench_ \- she gave him a sour look. Brienne didn't want to tell them that she was a professional weightlifter as it would just confirm their perceptions of her as unfeminine yet, even so, she was still proud of her skills. “Probably, and I would take great pleasure in it.”

Jaime raised his eyebrows at her. If she did not know he was gay, Brienne may have thought it was a flirtatious expression. “What? You would take great pleasure in slinging me over your shoulder and carrying me wherever you want?”

“No,” she said quickly, even as she started blushing furiously, “I would take great pleasure in bench pressing Loras to oblivion. I’m a professional weightlifter; I have some serious skills in that area.”

“Are you?” Jaime asked, getting to his feet and walking over to her. “That’s fascinating. How did you get into that?”

If she could not stand people making sly digs about her looks, Brienne really could not bear fake flirtatious interest from men, especially from someone like Jaime who was clearly interested in Renly or Loras, not her.

Never her.

Feeling a little bitter, she said, “well, after spending a lifetime of people making fun of me for being the tall, strong freak, I eventually realised the best thing to do was just embrace it.”

Jaime tilted his head, considering that proposition. “I suppose that’s a way to deal with it, although are you not proud of your achievements in their own right? Surely you must have won plenty of competitions and prizes; you look plenty strong enough for it. You’ve got a lot of… muscle definition.”

A little confused about why Jaime was talking to her in that way, Brienne said “I guess…” with something approaching softness. Perhaps sensing her change in tone, Jaime then started asking her about how being a professional weightlifter actually worked, and she told him all about funding bodies and extra revenues. The conversation flowed so well that she did not notice Renly and Loras slink off.

“Do you get any money from advertising?” Jaime asked, taking a sip of his beer.

Brienne shook her head. “No, I’m not quite in the right field. My friend Sansa Stark is a gymnast gets loads of money from advertising…”

“Oh yes,” interjected Jaime, “is she the one that does the toilet paper adverts?”

“Yes,” replied Brienne, the image of Sansa bounding around with a labrador puppy coming firmly into her mind, “but there is a fundamental difference between her and me.”

Jaime furrowed his brow in confusion. “What? She’s got a better agent than you?”

“No,” said Brienne, a little annoyed by his wilful ignoring of the obvious, “it’s that she’s attractive and I’m not. Who would want a great hulking mess like me advertising their products?”

His eyes crinkled in amusement as he spoke again. “Someone who is attracted to strength, who likes how tall you are, who likes your freckles, and your blue eyes… and maybe someone who would appreciate being thrown over your shoulder and dragged to the bedroom.”

“Pity they don’t exist,” she chuckled, even as his gaze grew more intense.

“Or,” he said lightly, “you just _pretend_ they don’t exist.”

Then, somehow, Brienne spent the rest of the night with a very handsome gay man who at least treated her like a human. He asked her more about her weightlifting techniques, about whether she did any cardio, and what her diet was like.

“I basically spend my life down at this restaurant on the Waterfront called _Hot Pie’s_ ,” she said enthusiastically, “he does this amazing spiced shrimp that gives me all my protein needs.”

“And you find that helps, even with your cardio training?”

“Yes,” she replied, “although I only tend to go running for cardio; I don’t do much else.”

“Really?” he said, a hint of surprised amusement on his face, “I thought a girl like you would have loads of opportunities to do the most enjoyable form of cardio.”

Now Brienne really was lost, “which is?”

“Well,” smiled Jaime, “I would have thought you would have plenty of options when it came to throwing men over your shoulder, pinning them down on your bed, and then having your wicked way with them. Sure, it doesn’t burn as many calories as running, but it is sure as hell more fun.”

Brienne just blinked at him. “Are you trying to say that you think there are a lot of men out there who would _willingly_ have sex with me?”

“Yeah,” grinned Jaime, “you might even find that I…”

Right at that moment, Renly and Loras came down the stairs, giggling to one another. “Jaime,” said Loras, a smile on his face, “I think it’s probably time we get going. The others will be wondering where we are.”

Jaime nodded, getting to his feet, but he kept his eyes on Brienne. Just as Renly and Loras started saying goodbye to each other by kissing quite passionately, Jaime started to speak, “well, I suppose now is the point in the evening when I ask you…”

She knew what he was going to say: why did you talk to me? Did Renly ask you to jump on a grenade? Why did you think I would want to spend all night chatting to you? In an attempt to stymie his inevitable anger, Brienne stood up too, a sympathetic look on her face. “Oh, I’m sorry you had to spend your night with me rather than Renly. It seems like Loras was successful there. So, there’s no need to ask me if I think you have a chance with Renly because… I think that ship has sailed.”

To her surprise, Jaime looked at Brienne confusedly. “What?”

“I always have to play wingman to Ren,” Brienne smiled. “Guys always go mad for Ivana Fallova, and it seems tonight you were out of luck. I’m sorry about that, but I think Renly usually goes for hyper-pretty boys. You are just too manly for him. I’m sorry I can’t give you a better answer than that.”

Jaime’s smile grew. “You think I’m manly?”

“Yes… er… what?” stammered Brienne, getting more and more flustered with every word. It was mainly due to Jaime’s stare: it was piercing.

“I’m happy to know you think I’m manly,” he said, a flirtatious look in his eye, “because it makes this next bit much easier. I was not going to ask you if you think I have a chance with Renly, wench.”

“No?” she responded, blushing at the ease of this new nickname, “what were you going to ask me?”

His grin grew almost predatorial. “For your number,” he said, a statement so simple it managed to take all the breath out of her lungs, even though she knew she was getting excited for no reason. He was gay and, even if he wasn’t, Brienne was still ugly.

“I can’t change his mind,” Brienne countered. “He seems pretty set on Loras… so I don’t think you have any hope… I’m sorry… I know you must be disappointed… Ren’s a nice guy and I’m quite boring… and… I’m just sorry…”

At her incessant babbling, Jaime’s eyes were filled with a mixture of surprise and amusement. It was endearingly beautiful. “Oh, I think we’ve got some wires crossed here.”

“Have we?” asked Brienne, genuinely perplexed. “About what?”

A smile bloomed on Jaime face, revealing his dimples once more. “Well, for one thing, there’s a key fact about me you seem to have missed.”

“Which is?” she inquired, growing more confused by the second.

Giving her another one of his glorious smiles, Jaime leant in close and whispered in her ear, “I’m straight, wench. I just took Loras to the gay club to be a good friend, but me… I like the ladies.” When he drew back, he was looking at her so intensely that Brienne did not know what to say.

She eventually came up with a world-beater.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he grinned, “ _oh.”_

There was a look in his eye that seemed to suggest to Brienne that Jaime thought she had just put it all together when, in actual fact, she felt as if she had just dropped the jigsaw puzzle on the floor. “Err…” she interjected, still not getting it, “so, why do you want my number, then?” Even if Jaime was straight, male model types like him did not go for hench women like her…

_Surely._

“Well,” began Jaime, taking a coaxing tone. “I’m going to need it so we can work out what time I’m going to pick you up for dinner on Friday so we can go to that shrimp restaurant down on the Waterfront you like so much.”

At that, Brienne just furrowed her brow at him, completely lost. There only seemed one explanation for all this, so she voiced it, “are you joking with me?”

“No,” he smiled, “I just think there are men out there who like being manhandled by the women they fancy… and I might be one of them.”

“ _Oh.”_

If the fact that Jaime had asked her on a date had surprised her, that he wanted a second was a total shock to Brienne, as were the third, fourth, and fifth. However, for all that those dates were revelatory, she only became entirely convinced that she had accidentally taken some magic mushrooms when, after their seventh date, he invited her back to his place, and they ended up having sex in his bed, on the floor, in the shower, up against the wall, and did not stop nearly continuously for two straight days. Even stranger was the fact that Jaime looked so blissful about it, especially when she had him pinned down and told him that she could do anything she wanted to him.

“Yes, Brienne,” he had moaned, “do _anything._ Yes, yes, yes, yes… _yes.”_

That Jaime Lannister wanted Brienne Tarth was so incredible that, fifteen years later, after having been married for thirteen with two children, a dog, and a house in suburbia, Brienne still found herself staring at her husband like he was some sort of incredible alien that she happened to be madly in love with.

“Why are you staring at me like that, wench?” he asked, pulling her closer to him on the sofa before giving her a quick kiss. When they broke apart, she smiled at him.

“I just think it’s incredible sometimes that you fell in love with me over Renly,” she laughed, “he really does look very pretty as Ivana Fallova.”

Jaime gave her a rakish grin, “and I think it’s incredible that you still don’t believe I’m into the ladies… and _one_ lady in particular.”

“I do believe it,” she smiled, before cheekily saying, “and I love you very dearly for it my beloved gay husband.”

Jaime let out a little snigger. “Love you too, my weightlifting wench.”

As he said it so sincerely, Brienne could not help but believe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you consider leaving a comment to let me know what you think!
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	10. Colours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime paints Brienne...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still going ahead with these prompts so, if anyone has any ideas, prompt me on tumblr! I am SeeThemFlying
> 
> This time, the prompt was from Anonymous and asked for: 42 (big damn kiss) and 88 (erotic dreams). I hope you enjoy!

His dreams were almost impossible replicate; they were too perfect, too transcendent… too _much_. Yet Jaime had to try as the alternative was to lose her forever.

She always appeared as she had in those stolen days at Winterfell; naked, her skin peppered with freckles, the light from the fire kissing her form. To evoke that perfect glow, Jaime swathed the canvas in pinks, reds, and whites. He was determined to capture both the heat of the room and the reddening of her cheeks, her neck, her rosy complexion as she opened her legs for him, and the burning heat as he kissed her just _there_ until she moaned. Yet red was not the only colour he used. The bed on which he fucked her had green sheets - always green - and sometimes in his dreams they were outside on the grass, just as they had been one solitary time at Winterfell. Dipping his brush in emerald, fern, and jade, Jaime used them all when outlining her perfect form, trying to give some sense of how alive loving her had made him feel. His paintings never truly did her justice - she was too Brienne for that - but he felt he needed to try. Therefore, the colour that appeared most often was blue. Blue for the sea. Blue for the sky. Blue for the deep, dangerous sapphire of her eyes that had communicated how broken hearted she was when she stood outside in the courtyard, begging him to stay. He hadn’t stayed, of course, and he had not seen Brienne since.

Half a man, Jaime had returned to King’s Landing; his father needed him back at _Lannister Corporations_ as the house burnt down, threatening to take the whole family with him. Although Jaime had tried to save them from a mess of their own making, the Ponzi scheme his father had set up had entangled too many people and there was nowhere else for him to run. Even though he knew his father and sister were criminals, Jaime was too honourable to see them fall alone so, in a misguided sense of duty, had agreed to go on the run with Cersei to Pentos. Once there, they had bickered and argued for five solid years until one hateful day it had suddenly hit Jaime the extent of what he had given up in saving his sister’s ungrateful hide; _her,_ his beloved, his love…

Brienne.

On returning to Westeros a free man, Jaime had tried to find her. From White Harbour, Jaime had rushed to Winterfell, the place he had last seen her, only to be met by a furious Sansa Stark who ordered him to leave and never darken her doorway again. After that failure, he had tried calling Pod, but the young man had hung up on him after hurling a string of abuse at him. No one would tell him where Brienne had gone and though he looked and looked, Jaime could never find her…

…That was until three months ago, when Tyrion had sent him a message telling him that Brienne was now living under the name of Ms Hunt on the island that bore her name, running a souvenir shop out of Evenfall. When Jaime had called Tyrion and asked why _Hunt,_ the answer had stung.

“Her ex-husband,” Tyrion said honestly. “They got married soon after you left for Pentos but divorced two years ago, so she’s free as a bird. You might want to…”

“No,” he answered swiftly. “I have no right to claim her now.”

Even as Tyrion tried to argue, Jaime would not hear his objections as he knew it was true. In the short amount of time they had spent together in Winterfell, Jaime had never even told Brienne he loved her. What right did he have to go storming into her life now and asking for an acknowledgement of feelings that were probably long dead for her? Therefore, in the painful absence of loving her in the flesh, Jaime threw himself into evoking her essence in his paintings of his erotic dreams; of him and her, holding each other, loving each other, never letting go.

While at first his art was just a way for him to pick up the pieces of his broken heart and try to stitch them back together, Tyrion had eventually managed to convince Jaime to do something with it. Consequently, Tyrion had used his connections to rent his brother some gallery space at the Baelor Museum in King’s Landing for an exhibition. Jaime knew most people would just think he was only there because of his surname but, even so, he thanked his brother for the opportunity, as he was proud of the fact that his relationship with Brienne was being recognised in the light in some small way, even if it was just in paint.

The exhibition of his paintings, simply titled _My Beloved,_ was only running for a week, and, given that he was not famous, Jaime thought the only visitors would be Tyrion and his Aunt Genna on loop. Therefore, it was quite a surprise when he found a small crowd queuing for tickets on the first day. Word of mouth seemed to work in his favour, as the following day there was an even bigger crowd and it was the same the day after that. Barely able to contain his excitement that other people found some value in his work, Jaime drifted amongst the visitors, dying to hear what people had to say about his art.

“I wonder what it represents?” asked a woman in a blue jacket, staring at an abstract painting depicting Jaime eating Brienne out.

“Something tragic and meaningful no doubt,” said her companion sagely, “about global warming… or the collapse of our economic system.”

The latter’s teenaged son shook his head. "I’m definitely seeing a boob.“

 _He’s not wrong there,_ thought Jaime with a smile.

After the success of the exhibition had been established, Jaime did not come back until the final night to have one final survey of his kingdom. As the traffic had been bad, Jaime arrived just before closing time and took a solitary long walk through the gallery, determined to see every painting before they were all packed away. The sight of the galley was strangely sad; in some small sense, the exhibition’s closure felt like the real, true end to his relationship with Brienne which he had been desperately hanging onto in his dreams.

 _I do have to move on,_ he thought sadly, _I can’t spend my whole life…_

And then, quite suddenly, there she was, standing by the final painting looking up at herself, her blue eyes wide.

 _Even if I were the best painter in the world,_ he mused, _I could never do her justice._

As quietly as possible, Jaime went to stand beside Brienne as she continued to stare up at his work, carefully considering what he had created. It depicted the two of them entwined on that last night at Winterfell, the last time he had ever felt whole. For Jaime, a great deal of sadness and happiness was incapsulated in that snapshot; it was one of the greatest moments of his life, but just offstage was his downfall. He wondered what she saw when she looked at it.

"The colours…” Brienne said quietly, not taking her eyes from the painting. “Blue and pink. Why did you choose them?”

Still not looking at her, Jaime replied, “Tarth colours. They seemed appropriate.”

She let out a little snort at that comment. “Why? Did you think it would make the mockery even more biting?”

Furrowing his brow, Jaime turned to look at her. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Brienne did not reward him with her blue eyes meeting his, but instead continued to gaze up at herself, distorted by his erotic gaze. “What mockery?” he asked, genuinely perplexed. “There’s no mockery in this.”

“Of course there is,” she replied, her voice fragile with incredulity and pain. “You dedicate a whole exhibition to your sister and then paint half the pictures in Tarth colours! It’s almost cruel.”

“My sister?” he said, confused, not quite sure how she could come to that conclusion. “Why would I paint a picture of Cersei in Tarth colours?”

Brienne finally snapped her head around to look at him, her blue eyes alight with emotion. To his surprise, he did not see anger lingering there, only an intractable sadness. “Because even though I loved you once… you want to rub salt in my wounds. I understand that you always loved Cersei, and that I am not beautiful enough to ever be in a painting, but did you have to do it this way? Why couldn’t you just keep your relationship with Cersei secret, for my sake if not your own?”

Her palpable humiliation and grief hit him hard, causing Jaime to take in a huge gulp of air. He had spent years being quiet about his feelings, but now he wanted to shout it from the rooftops; Jaime Lannister was a fool, an idiot, a hopeless moron, but he adored Brienne Tarth completely and without reservation.

Not Cersei. Brienne.

Yet, apparently, she did not feel the same.

“You don’t love me anymore?” he asked, his voice so gentle it was almost as if he feared his heart would break in two if he spoke too loud.

Brienne clearly had not been expecting that question as she blinked a couple of times, before biting her lip. “I… I… I…”

Taking advantage of her hesitation, Jaime lunged forward and pulled her against him, kissing her madly. She was well within her rights to push him away, to shout and swear at him, and Jaime was prepared to take it. Yet, Brienne Tarth was not so cruel. Instead of anger, Brienne met his tongue with her own and cupped his face with her hands, before running her strong fingers along his jaw. When they broke apart, she was smiling.

“Jaime,” she whispered, her eyes filled with a light he had longed for since Winterfell.

“Brienne,” he replied, swapping his name for hers. “Brienne. My love. _My beloved.”_

A tear rolled down her cheek. “Your beloved?” she murmured, finally putting together the fact that the exhibition was in honour of her.

“My beloved,” he said again, wiping her tear away with his thumb, “my beloved, painted in Tarth colours.”

“Oh,” she said simply, realising.

It was the most beautiful sight in the world. He could never do it justice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! If you liked it, please consider leaving comments and kudos!
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	11. Expected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was to be expected...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, apparently I’ve been giving too much thought to what Show!Brienne would have logically thought after Show!Jaime left her in the show (Book!Jaime, babe, I know you would never do something so horrible so you are not to blame here). This is a short story about what someone like Brienne, who has horrible self-esteem issues, would have felt if she had been callously abandoned by the man she loved as she was in the show. I hope you enjoy!

The more that Brienne allowed herself to think on it in the years that passed, the more she realised she should have expected it.

A poor lumbering beast like her could never expect kindness or compassion in this world; to be treated as someone to be cared for, a lady had to be beautiful, delicate, winsome, and fit perfectly into the mould prepared for her by society. Brienne was none of those things, so she should have not expected anything else. Abandonment was the inevitable result of her ugly face and giant body, demanding more space than it deserved.

All that was meant for Brienne of Tarth was Septa Roelle’s cane - _the mirror never lies -_ Renly’s knights’ cruel words - _ugly beast -_ and the Bloody Mummers’ threats of violence - _go away inside_. Consequently, it had subsequently become clear that he had lost his hand and jumped into a bear pit not for any deeper feeling, but because he was a knight in a story, gallant and brave, and it was the role he was born to play. In contrast, Brienne was no lady from a song; it was just an accident she was there, an unfortunate looking understudy for the beautiful leading lady who was waiting offstage. Yet, for a fleeting moment, Brienne had felt his green eyes on her and thought she was the star of the show, lit up by the light that shone from him. Perhaps it was possible that he could love her.

That feeling had only been reinforced during those fevered nights in Winterfell; hot, fervent, and, on her side at least, filled with love. Of course, it had not been that way for him. She had just been a lump of flesh in which to warm his cock, an empty vessel into which to spend his seed. She may as well have been a whore, a courtesan, or a washcloth for all she meant to him. Yet, when he inevitably left her for his sister, she had wept for the love story she had thought she was part of, and when she heard his brother had discovered his body in the ruins of the Red Keep, she had sobbed for her love, her man, her knight. In one last act of love, she had written his story in the White Book so the world would know he was true, brave, and the best of men. It seemed a fitting ending, and paid homage to a man who could have loved her if he had not been so full of self-hatred.

But then, as the years passed, Brienne of Tarth had thought about Jaime Lannister more and more and realised she had been a fool, and Septa Roelle, Renly’s knights, and the Bloody Mummers had been right. She should never had expected his love, because she was not worth it. And in the end, she had never even possessed his friendship or respect, as he had not even cared for her to tell her to her face. Instead, he had snuck out in the middle of the night and it was only pure accident that she awoke and gave him the opportunity to abandon her in the snow. Furthermore, he had been uncaring of the fact he had deflowered a maid and ruined her reputation forever.

Her father had been _so_ disappointed in her.

On that day, many years later, when the truth of the limits of his love hit her, Brienne just bore it in silence, while King Brandon looked serenely on.

Only later, locked away with a truth-telling mirror for company, did she let herself weep.

It was to be expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BOOK!JAIME WE ALL KNOW YOU ARE INNOCENT. George, please finish these damn books.
> 
> And Merry Christmas everyone!
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	12. The Last Day of Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At summer camp, Brienne gets her heart broken...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I got this prompt from anonymous on tumblr: "Hiii, first of all I wanna say I´m big fan of all your stories! As for promts, I was thinking 3. Modern AU plus 19. Summer camp could be pretty interesting! Have a nice day!"
> 
> Here you go!

_Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, don't cry..._

In her effort to hide her tears, Brienne went running out of the Highgarden Summer Camp's central hut, not wanting everybody to see that she was upset in the brightly coloured lights of the Last Night Party.

 _I've been so stupid,_ she thought, _so, so stupid._

Tall and ungainly, with a horribly painful set of braces to straighten up her crooked teeth, fifteen-year-old Brienne Tarth was not what anyone would call beautiful, or even pretty. In fact, her step-mother Roelle had told her quite the opposite. She had said that all compliments from men were lies and, if Brienne wanted to see the truth, she just had to look in her mirror in the morning.

So, having had her heart broken, Brienne went in search of the familiar, painful comfort of her own reflection.

_I should never have allowed myself to hope. Never, never, never._

Renly Baratheon had always been out of her league. He had big brown eyes that seemed to always catch the light, an effortlessly handsome smile, and a way of performing acts of kindness that made Brienne feel that he was deliberately searching her out while doing them. During the dance competition the previous week, Renly had laughed with her and smiled at her, even as others giggled behind her back, then took her onto the floor when all the boys were laughing that no one would dance with her.

"Don't listen to those shits," he said, his brown eyes bright. "They're not worth your time."

Brienne was sure it was love as, without quite meaning to, Renly had spun her a dream that had left her in a happy daze with for a whole week; Renly liked her, Renly was more than a friend, she would one day be Mrs Brienne Baratheon.

That was until two days ago when the whole camp came alive with gossip that Renly was going out with Margaery Tyrell.

 _I should have known,_ thought Brienne. _Margaery Tyrell is very pretty, while my truth is in the mirror._

Yet, instead of getting upset about it and crying to all her friends (like Loras Tyrell had done earlier in the day), Brienne had locked her sadness away inside herself, registering it as one of life's disappointments. Renly’s unwitting rejection was yet another piece of evidence that proved that what Roelle told Brienne was true; she was ugly, a beast, a monster. At best she would be invisible, at worst, mocked.

There were some small mercies. At least Renly had been kind enough to treat her as invisible ever since he had got with Margaery. Unfortunately, Hyle Hunt, Ben Bushey, and Ed Ambrose had taken the opposite approach. During the Last Night Party, they had all made bets on who could get Big Brienne to kiss them. Hyle had approached first, with sweet words and laughter, which Brienne had taken as genuine interest, so she had only been saved when Margaery whispered the truth of the bet in her ear while Hyle was off by the punch bowl. Unable to feel anything but silent amusement aimed at her from everyone at the party, ricocheting around the cabin, Brienne had fled in tears, not wanting to be a laughing-stock.

_And I thought I looked nice in this blue dress._

After running for what felt like an age, Brienne stopped by the lake at the edge of camp, the furthest point she could go without swimming. The moon was so bright that she could see herself reflected in the perfectly still water and found comfort in that natural mirror's truth.

_I am so ugly. Who would ever want me? Even if I am kind, caring, compassionate, loyal, and bright it matters not one bit because I will always be ugly first._

_Ugly._

_Ugly._

_Ugly._

She only realised she was weeping when a tear fell into the water, sending a ripple trailing outwards, bigger than the little drop that first sparked it.

 _I suppose misery is like that,_ Brienne thought. _It starts small and then gets bigger and bigger, until it consumes everything it touches._

"Why are you crying?" came a voice, deep and resonant.

Brienne span around, horrified that someone had seen her in a moment of weakness. Wiping her tears away, it took her a few seconds to realise she was staring at Jaime Lannister, the resident bad boy two years her senior who liked smoking, insisting the organised fun planned by the camp was shit, and saying rude things to anyone who looked at him the wrong way. Yes, he was the only one who could give her a decent spar during the fencing sessions. Yes, he had punched Ron Connington which made Brienne supremely happy, and yes, he sometimes complimented her fighting, but that did not stop him being a despicable person. Everyone knew the rumours about him and his sister, after all. Only horrible people did things like _that_.

"I'm not crying," she said loudly, more to convince herself than him, and turned back towards the lake so he could not see the truth.

"Yes you are," Jaime replied, almost softly, coming to stand next to her. As he did so, his shadow cast across her reflection in the water, making it difficult for her to see it. "Do you want a cigarette?"

"No, they're bad for you," Brienne replied, remembering all the documentaries about second-hand smoke her teacher had shown in health class, just as Jaime pulled a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket. As he was a terrible person, he did not seem to care that it had a picture of decaying lungs and a big sign that said SMOKING KILLS in large letters on it.

"Your loss," he shrugged, before lighting up a cigarette for himself, sending great plumes of smoke trailing into the air. At this intrusion into her peaceful, weepy solitude, Brienne started coughing pointedly in protest. 

"Oh gods," laughed Jaime as she did so, "I thought you were above that passive aggressive shit. I always took you for an _aggressive aggressive_ type of girl, especially considering the way you enjoy beating the shit out of me during fencing."

 _Because being an aggressive aggressive girl served me so well in the past,_ she thought.

"Maybe I'm trying something new," she said quietly, averting his eyes.

At Brienne's attempt at honesty, Jaime let out a derisive chuckle. "For Renly Baratheon, no doubt. Sorry to disappoint, but you are not his type."

"Why is that then?" she spat back, suddenly angry that this horrible, horrible boy was picking at her weaknesses while he looked like half a god with his green eyes and stupid gold hair. "Is it because I'm ugly?"

"No, I didn’t say that," replied Jaime swiftly, furrowing his brow confusedly.

"Then why?"

The corners of his mouth turned up in a smile. "Because you don't have a cock."

At that entirely improper way of putting it, Brienne let out an indignant splutter. "Renly isn't gay!"

"Yes he is," said Jaime firmly, before taking another puff of his cigarette. "And Loras Tyrell seems to agree."

"No, Loras _doesn't_ agree, he's just worried about his sister that's all."

As she tried to valiantly defend her friend, Jaime gave her a smile that was all dimples and bemusement. "He's worried that his sister is going out with someone he has been having a secret gay affair with all summer, _that's all_."

There was something about Jaime's cocksure grin than made Brienne a little unsettled, especially as she had long suspected that Loras was gay, even if he had not yet come out. Renly, though? He seemed too confident and self-assured not to be his authentic self in front of everybody, even all the little shits at the Highgarden Summer Camp.

"Renly's not gay," insisted Brienne, even though she had very little evidence to back it up and was only saying it because she longed for it to be true and did not want Jaime to have the satisfaction.

"He is," declared Jaime again, as Brienne choked on his second-hand smoke, "and if I were you, I would start believing it."

"Why is that, then?" she asked testily, hating the thought of Jaime Lannister of all people tearing down the first great love of her life.

"Well," smiled Jaime, as if he were a wise old prophet at the top of a mountain and she his stupid pupil. "This way, you know that Renly not wanting you has got nothing to do with _you_ , or because you are ugly, or whatever other lie you are going to tell yourself. It's just that, quite simply, you don't float his boat."

As if to make a point, Jaime then dropped his cigarette on the floor and stamped it out with his foot. Maybe he believed smoking made him look cool and sexy, like some sort of bad boy movie star.

 _Maybe he's right,_ Brienne thought, even as she tried distracting herself from his infuriatingly pretty eyes by drowning in another depressing idea.

"I don't float _anyone's_ boat," she muttered, not to him, but to her mirrored reflection in the lake, darkened by Jaime's shadow but still as real as if she could see it properly.

"That's not true," Jaime said, stepping slightly closer.

"Isn't it?" snorted Brienne, wondering if Jaime was making fun of her. "Name one person who has ever had a thing for me, then?"

At her question, Jaime's eyes went very wide. "What?"

"Name one person," she repeated, staring at him challengingly. "I bet you can't."

For some reason, Jaime then blushed and started babbling. "And... well, I think there's plenty of guys who would... I mean... I... well... there's probably..."

"Told you," she said, half triumphant and half resigned, "I told you that you couldn't name one."

"I can!" he declared loudly, not wanting to give up the fight. That's always how Jaime was during fencing matches as well, tearing back at her even when all hope was lost, even when she had won him over so completely there was no point resisting anymore.

"Go on then," Brienne sniggered, turning around to face him, surprised he was continuing with this line of attack. "Name _one_. One single solitary person on this planet for whom my existence gets them all hot and bothered."

Waiting for his answer, Brienne stared at him in the way they would before a fencing match, all bravado and threatening glee. Although she would never admit it to his face, Brienne loved fighting with Jaime, it made her blood sing, and although this victory would be painful, it would be a victory nonetheless.

Jaime seemed to consider what to say for a moment, while she continued to gaze at him challengingly. Perhaps it was the look in her eye - willing him to fail - that caused him be decisive but, whatever it was, it totally took Brienne by surprise when he eventually made his move. Lifting both hands, Jaime cupped her tearstained cheeks, running his fingers softly across her freckles, before pulling her face down towards his - mouth first - and smashing his lips against hers.

The shock of being kissed - really kissed - overwhelmed her for a few moments, especially when she realised that, in her surprise, she had opened her mouth leaving Jaime free to seek out her tongue with his. Yet, eventually, the feeling passed, allowing Brienne to enjoy her first kiss with a boy who tasted of smoke, breath mints, and Jaime. It was almost a new way of fighting with him.

When they broke apart, Jaime looked nervous, all flushed cheeks and swollen lips.

"Jaime," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "I can name one. His name is Jaime Lannister."

Barely believing it, Brienne just gazed at him, taking in both his heated stare and his earnest expression, a concoction so potent it made her melt.

"Oh," she whispered, mainly because words were now beyond her.

"Oh," Jaime repeated, smiling.

And then they kissed again, and Brienne quite forgot whatever she had been crying about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	13. Many Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There were many things she meant to say, very few of them polite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is barely a fic, more like a drabble, but I really liked it so I thought I would post it anyway.
> 
> This is from the five sentence fic challenge, where I was prompted with the first sentence and I had to complete the fic in another five sentences. I was prompted by anonymous "there were many things she meant to say, very few of them polite" and I took it from there.
> 
> I hope you enjoy :)

* * *

There were many things she meant to say, very few of them polite _._ I hate your stupid smile, was one, it is far too dangerously pretty for my heart. And urgh, your eyes - too green, too bright, too _much_. And do you realise how rude you are? It makes me angry how easily you get under my skin, burrowing so deep I cannot cut you out.

But, _oh,_ I love you, I love you, I love you, I–-

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed that tiny little drabble :)
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	14. Not Even At All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne watches Jaime's favourite film on his birthday...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I wrote this for the Movie Quote Mash-Up Challenge (which I wrote myself), and half-past-late challenged me to use numbers 26 and 28 in a fic:
> 
> 26) "I hate it that you’re not around, and the fact that you didn’t call. But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.” - Ten Things I Hate About You (1999)
> 
> AND
> 
> 28) "I think I’d miss you even if we’d never met.” - The Wedding Date (2005)
> 
> This is my attempt to do just that. I hope you enjoy!

As it was 31st January, when Brienne got home from work, she sat down and put _The Kingslayer and the Wench_ on. She hated that she did it so easily, like a reflex she could not control, just as she hated the way she stopped in town to pick up a cake with a little candle, and even considered buying him the beautiful red scarf with gold detail she saw in the plush boutique she passed.

It wasn’t as if he would come to his own birthday party, after all.

Nevertheless, when Brienne had a few hours to herself that evening, she prepared to sit down and watch Jaime’s favourite film, eat his favourite cake, and drink a shot in his honour.

“Happy Birthday, arsehole,” she muttered as _The Kingslayer and the Wench’s_ glorious technicolour opening titles started unfurling like a delicately woven tapestry. Ever since life had taught her that romance was for the lovable, Brienne had shoved down the delicate sensitive part of herself that adored stories like that of Goldenhand the Just and the Maid of Tarth. Yet, on their second date, Jaime had taken her to the old King’s Gate Cinema just off River Row and devotedly unlocked her tired, beaten down heart with this film. Yes, Brienne had had her complaints; Arthur Dayne’s nose was not straight enough to play the impossibly beautiful Kingslayer, and Ashara Dayne was far _far_ too attractive to play the notoriously ugly Maid of Tarth. Even so, Jaime had held her hand and Brienne had fallen in love.

With him as well as the film.

“Bastard,” she said, a little louder this time, as the Maid of Tarth went into the dungeon below Winterfell and found the man she was to drag across a continent. As she watched the story unfold, Brienne wasn’t sure who she was talking about; the reprehensible character on screen, or the one in her heart.

She had not seen Jaime for a year and a half. The last day they had spent together had seemed perfectly normal; she had made him eggs on toast for breakfast, he had massaged her ankle which she was complaining was sore after she tripped at Zumba the day before. They had always planned that Jaime would go to his nephew’s wedding without her - his family was a crazy bucket of crabs after all - but he had kissed her goodbye and said he would see her later.

The next morning, Brienne had woken up to an answerphone message that had turned her world upside down.

“Hey wench, it’s me, Jaime,” he began, as if she would not recognise his voice in a heartbeat. “So… err… Joffrey died last night. I don’t know what happened… the cops think he got poisoned or something… Cersei’s going crazy and Tyrion’s been arrested… my father thinks he’s guilty, Cersei’s determined to bring him down… but he’s innocent. I _know_ he’s innocent. So… um… I’ve got to stay and sort this out. I’ll call you… okay?”

And then he didn’t. Not later that day. Not the next day. Or the day after that. Eventually, Brienne got worried, and rung his old college friend Addam to ask where Jaime was. His answer had been concerning.

“He’s gone to Casterly Rock. He thinks he can’t set things right in King’s Landing. I’m sure he’ll call you.”

But he didn’t call, and when Brienne tried to ring him, she just got the voicemail and no response. Growing increasingly desperate, she tried the rest of his friends, and even his workplace at the King’s Landing office of the _Lannister Corporation_. The last straw had been when she heard from his secretary Pia that he had been transferred out to Lannisport and was having his belongings shipped out in the next few days.

Reeling from the seemingly easy way Jaime had cut her out of his life, Brienne had decided to fight back. Hiring a car, she had made the cross country journey to his ancestral home - Casterly Rock - prepared to fling herself against the gates until Jaime came out, faced her, and told her what the fuck was going on. It wasn’t fair. She loved him and thought that he loved her too. Surely, she deserved an answer. Yet once she arrived at the Lannister’s palatial fortress and tried to sneak her way inside, Brienne got nothing but a security guard kicking her out and a stern warning not to trespass lest she want the full weight of Tywin Lannister’s lawyers falling on her head.

Not one to be put off, Brienne had settled down for the night in the back of her hire car, determined to wait it out. Jaime would have to face her eventually, especially if he truly felt what she believed he felt for her inside that soft, tender heart of his.

In the morning she woke up to a knock on the window. Opening her eyes, Brienne tried to focus as the man introduced himself as Mr Bronn Blackwater, one of Jaime’s associates. At the mention of her beloved’s name, Brienne perked up.

“How is he? _Where_ is he? I want to see him, I want…”

“Mr Lannister has told me to tell you that he is occupied presently, but he will call you as soon as he has worked out what to say.”

 _Worked out what to say?_ Brienne had thought. _What does that even mean?_

“Surely everything will be better if we just talk face to face,” implored Brienne, hoping if she could get through to this random Lannister lackey then she might be able to get through to Jaime. “Can you ask him to come outside and speak to me? Can you ask…?”

“And the other Mr Lannister,” interrupted Mr Blackwater, “Mr _Tywin_ Lannister, says if you do not get off his property right now, he will call the police to drag you off.”

Feeling her bottom lip threatening to wobble, Brienne tried one last thing. “I need to talk to Jaime. I _love_ Jaime. Please…”

“Ms Tarth,” said Mr Blackwater, his voice suddenly strangely gentle. “He’ll call. It will be alright. He will call.”

But then Jaime decidedly did _not_ call.

Out of options, Brienne gave up. She deleted all mention of her lovely, wonderful Jaime from her social media, and told her friends it just “hadn’t worked out”. She went to Tarth to visit her father, finding the familiar meadows and endless sea strangely comforting considering how broken hearted she was. Her rural peace could not last forever, though, and then, in the end, she had returned to King’s Landing and got on with her life.

And like a lovestruck fool, on his birthday Brienne watched _The Kingslayer and the Wench._

She had just got to the scene in the bath in Harrenhal when the doorbell rang. Sighing, Brienne got to her feet. Why could she not have one day where she could just be alone and remember what it was like to feel loved? Why could she not have a few transient seconds to hold him close, like a piece of cursed treasure piercing her heart? Why could she not…?

When she answered the door, her mouth fell open in shock.

“Hello, wench.”

Jaime Lannister - half a god and half a flawed, _flawed_ man - stood in front of her as if no time at all had passed, as if just this morning she had made him eggs on toast and he had massaged her ankle.

“Wh-Wh-What are you doing here?” she stammered, barely believing what she was seeing.

“I’ve come for the party,” he said in his usual jokey way. “Can I come in?”

Stuck in a quagmire of disbelieving incredulity, Brienne opened the door and let him walk past her, as if him arriving at her flat was something he did every day. Yet Brienne knew it was not normal; in fact, she felt like she was being haunted by a ghost.

As she closed the door behind her, Jaime walked further into the room and noticed what was playing on the TV. “ _The Kingslayer and the Wench,”_ he said, amusement in his tone as he pointed at the screen. “How apt.”

“It is your birthday.”

“It is,” he replied, momentarily sad.

Taking her opportunity, Brienne stepped towards him, watching him with uneasy eyes. Why was he here? Why come with no warning? Without a word? She almost instantly regretted her decision, as once she was close, his expression softened, and he made his move.

“I’ve missed you, wench.”

“Don’t lie,” she said firmly, “I’ve been dead to you for the last year and a half.”

Jaime flinched as heavily as if she had hit him. “I am _not_ lying,” he responded, his tone equally as ardent. “I think I’d miss you even if we’d never met.”

“Now you are just being ridiculous,” Brienne retorted, turning away from him and walking towards the window, as if she expected to see a thousand things out there more beautiful than the man who was now standing in front of her. Unsurprisingly, he came up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. It made her tense up, but then almost instantly softened. They had not touched for so long, that now they were it made everything that had gone wrong in the last year and a half seem almost immaterial. The warmth from his hand just felt like too much.

“Wench, look at me.”

It took her a few moments to find the courage, but when she eventually did, Brienne turned to face him with an almost ferocious look in her eye. She would not let him make her weak.

“It has been a _year and a half,_ ” she said, unable to keep her pain out of her voice. “Where the hell have you been?”

She had expected him to stop touching her then, to be too ashamed of what he had done to keep his fingers on her. Instead, because he was Jaime Lannister, he took another step forward and brushed her arm with his free hand.

“Trying to sort everything out,” he replied, as if that were an answer. “Cersei was certain that Tyrion had poisoned Joff and called the cops on him, then my father got involved and it is _never_ good if my father gets involved.”

Brienne furrowed her brow at him in confusion. She would never understand his family. “But why not? Surely your father would have done his utmost to save Tyrion?”

To Brienne’s surprise, Jaime let out an incredulous burst of laughter at that. “Gods no, not without a price.”

“A price?” asked Brienne, not understanding. If she ever got falsely accused of murder, Brienne was sure that her own father would be on Westeros News in no time making sure her case was in the spotlight, not resting until her innocence was vindicated. She knew that Tywin Lannister was a shadowy billionaire, but it was only natural that he would want to save his own son… _surely._

Jaime nodded, seemingly weighed down by the weight of the world. “He wanted me to stop playing around, as he called it. He wanted me to get married, settle down, and give him a Lannister heir.”

“Get married,” said Brienne; stupidly, slowly. It was funny how Tywin Lannister’s ambitions matched hers for Jaime so well.

It therefore seemed quite strange when Jaime gave her a sad smile. “I told him all about this girl from the Stormlands with a wicked sense of humour and the most arresting eyes in the universe who would make the best wife, the best wench… but apparently, _Jaime Lannister is made for much better than some nobody from nowhere._ He wanted me to marry Margaery Tyrell, my nephew’s widow, because her family are rich and powerful and she’s going to inherit a sodding tiara.”

At the mention of her rival she had never met, Brienne folded her arms across her chest. In getting with Jaime in the first place, Brienne had been forced to deconstruct some long held beliefs about her own inadequacy, that suddenly came bubbling back to the surface. “Well, I am not going to inherit a tiara.”

“I don’t care about the tiara,” said Jaime, his mouth curling into something resembling a smile.

“And yet you didn’t come back.”

That accusation hung heavy in the air, even as Brienne dropped her arms to her sides. “No,” Jaime said eventually, “you are right. I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

Even though Brienne expected what was coming next, it still tore at her heart. “I agreed to marry Margaery, if it meant my father got Tyrion off. When he did… I felt had no choice.”

“And that is why you wouldn’t see me at Casterly Rock,” she said, putting the pieces together. “You were getting engaged to her… sleeping with her… so you couldn’t see me.”

“I wasn’t sleeping with her,” promised Jaime, reaching out for Brienne’s hand. She did not let him touch her again, lest she come undone. “It was a showmance. I was yours, entirely and completely, always yours. I was never going to be with her that way; I never could have been with her that way. You are in my heart, so my body was yours…”

Brienne found herself blushing. She knew what Jaime was like; one of life’s great romantics, he no doubt thought he could live in devoted celibacy for the rest of his days as some kind of unrealised promise. Yet now he was here, with an ardent look in his eye, searching for something. Had he left Margaery Tyrell?

“What changed?” asked Brienne hesitantly, worried that nothing had changed at all and she would soon discover Tywin Lannister on her doorstep, determined to burn the small life she had to the ground.

“Tyrion left,” admitted Jaime. “After he was freed, he became fed up with the lies and deceit, and for fighting for scraps of my father’s affection. He went to Essos - I don’t know what for, he’s not speaking to me anymore - but once he was gone, it left me free. I dumped Margaery, quit my job, and came back to you. Like I wanted to a year and a half ago.”

Brienne blinked. She could not believe it. Jaime had not said a word to her in almost two years, and now was trying to come at her with loads of romantic bullshit. Even so, she could not help but stammer, “a… a… year and… a half… ago?”

“A year and a half ago,” he repeated, lifting a hand towards her face. “I wanted to come home.”

Part of Brienne wanted to cave instantly - to pull him close and let everything go back to how it was - but the raw, hurt half of her knew that she did not want to make this so easy for him. Desperate to appear dignified, Brienne batted his hand away, which almost extinguished all the hope in his verdant green eyes.

“I’m sorry, I should have known,” he said, his voice quiet.

“Known what?”

He looked down at her shoulder, breaking their eye contact. “That you would hate me after what I did. It is only right… only right…” At that self-pitying little statement, Brienne let out such a pronounced scoff that Jaime looked back up at her. “What?”

“You think I hate you?” she asked him, wondering for the first time if Jaime was actually crazy. “You think _I_ hate _you?”_

“Well, yeah,” he mumbled, looking thoroughly ashamed of himself. “I treated you badly. It’s only right…”

“I hate that you didn’t tell me what was going on,” she confessed, her voice taking on a pinched quality as a lump bloomed in her throat.

Jaime just looked at her with those haunting green eyes of his, sad and beautiful. “Wench, I…”

“I hate that you treated me like I was from the gutter when I came to see you at Casterly Rock,” she declared, speaking louder with every word as the emotion built. “I hate that you sent an employee to send me away.”

“Brienne…”

“I _hate_ it that you’re not around,” she shouted, the tears rolling down her cheeks. Disregarding that word - _hate_ \- Jaime stepped forward and pulled her close to him, his body pressed against hers. It made her angry, furious that he could treat her as if the last year and a half never happened, “and the fact that you didn’t call.”

“I’m sorry, wench,” he mumbled, placing his forehead upon hers as he wrapped his arms around her waist. How did he have this power over her? To make her soft and pliable when she was normally all hard edges, angularity, and aloofness? “I’ll do better, I’ll _be_ better, we can make this work…”

“But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you,” she admitted, angry with her own weakness. At that confession, Jaime’s expression lit up, warm and inviting and everything she had been missing for a year and a half.

“Not even close…”

He kissed the tip of her nose.

“Not even a little bit…”

The corner of her mouth.

“Not even at all…”

Her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. As ever, I love to hear what you think in comments and kudos :)
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	15. The General and the Sword

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jaime Lannister arrives at Winterfell to pledge the Lannister army to the fight against the Others, decisions have to be made...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the prompt lovelylittlewren!
> 
> The quotes are from the Movie Quote Mash-Up:
> 
> 1\. "I’m scared of walking out of this room and never feeling the rest of my whole life the way I feel when I’m with you.“ - Dirty Dancing (1987)
> 
> AND
> 
> 7\. "When you realise you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.“ - When Harry Met Sally (1989)
> 
> This is Book!Canon, but I have drawn on Show!Canon and particularly episode 8x02 for this little one shot.

On any other day, Brienne may have found being stuck in a small ante room off Winterfell’s Great Hall at the height of winter with a group of the most important people in the world only a _little_ terrifying. After all, she was here as Lady Sansa’s sworn sword. She had a purpose. She had a place. She was _needed_ here. But on that day, she felt sick to her stomach. Jon Snow’s unreadable grey eyes - that had seen the other side of death and came back again - looked cold and distant. If there was anything left of the cheerful girl there once had been in Arya Stark, she was not making an appearance, and Bran Stark was just staring at nothing, as usual. As Brienne knew the Stark children well, perhaps her nerves were partially caused by the fact that Daenerys Targaryen was close, almost breathing fire like one of her dragons.

And yet Brienne knew without a shadow of a doubt that it was the man in front of her who made her feel transported. The last time she had seen Jaime Lannister had been at the Eyrie shortly after the tourney where Brienne had won the chance to be Lady Sansa’s sworn sword. Their final conversation had been in the Eyrie’s snowy courtyard in the early hours of the morning, when Ser Jaime was in the process of leaving.

“Don’t go,” she had begged. “Come with me. We are knights on a quest; we must return Lady Sansa to her brothers at Winterfell.”

In response, Ser Jaime had given her a sad look, one that spoke of many unsaid things. “You know I cannot, Lady Brienne…”

“You must,” she insisted, suddenly every single one of her young years. “Lord Rickon is only a small child and they say that Jon Snow is… _changed_ since he returned from the Wall. Some say he came back from the dead, that Lord Stannis…”

“Lady Brienne,” Jaime interrupted, his voice barely a whisper. “I cannot. I must return to my army in the Riverlands, and from there I must go to Tommen. I cannot let Cersei keep her claws in him, because if she does, she will rip him apart until he is no more than tattered flesh. In spite of everything, he is still my son. I will not see him destroyed.”

Brienne had nodded sadly, tears in her eyes. She had thought it had hurt to be separated from Renly because of the fact she was an unlovable beast, but to be pulled apart from Ser Jaime because of circumstance cut worse than a thousand blades. “I understand,” she had said, the tears filling her eyes, blurring her last sight of him.

Then he had said three little words and ridden out of the courtyard with all the determination of an angry god, leaving her haunted.

And now he was here, standing in front of Daenerys Targaryen, protected only by the fact he had the Lannister army at his back, pledged to help defend the North against the coming night. In Brienne’s opinion, Ser Jaime’s actions were the height of honour; for years, his family had battled with Stark and Targaryen, yet now he was here promising to defend their castle from an enemy that was like to kill them all. Unfortunately, Daenerys Targaryen did not see things the same way.

“When I was a child, my brother would tell me a bedtime story about the man who murdered our father,” she began, her voice little more than a growl. “Who stabbed him in the back and cut his throat. Who sat down on the Iron Throne and watched as his blood poured onto the floor.”

Given that it was a grave, heavy moment, and that everyone in the little room’s eyes were on him, Brienne thought that Ser Jaime should try and be deferential. That, of course, meant he did the total opposite and put on the well-worn bravado that had allowed him to play the Kingslayer for so many years.

“It is a fascinating story,” he said, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smile.

“Viserys told me other stories as well,” Daenerys interjected, her voice rising with emotion. “About all the things we would do to that man once we took back the Seven Kingdoms and had him in our grasp.”

As Brienne’s mind jumped to the horrible thought of Jaime being executed by Targaryen justice - by dragon fire or an executioner’s blade - she began to scrabble around in search of words that might see him defended. However, she was beaten by the red headed Lannister man who stood at Jaime’s side.

“The Lannister bannermen will not accept any threat to Ser Jaime,” he declared, his rich baritone forthright in defending his liege lord. “We will consider it an act of war.”

At that declaration, Daenerys eyes moved from Jon Snow to the man who had just spoken, and Brienne was impressed by the way he did not wilt under her imperious glare. “And who are you, pray tell?”

“Ser Addam Marbrand, my lady.”

“ _Your Grace,”_ Daenerys corrected sharply. “I am your queen.”

“There are many queens,” said Jaime breezily. Even though everyone knew it was no lie - not with Queen Margaery in a shared grave with her husband, Queen Arianne at Aegon’s side, and the zombified, putrid Queen Cersei at that monster Euron’s - the statement of truth did not help the situation. Daenerys looked wrathful, her violet eyes burning, but everyone else who was not a Stark or Tyrion Lannister just looked at one another nervously. Ser Jorah. Samwell Tarly. Tormund the wildling. Lord Rickon’s carer, Ser Davos, and even Brienne herself. They all knew they needed the Lannisters, and Ser Jaime’s life and liberty were a price of that. Brienne, of course, had further reasons to treasure Ser Jaime’s safety, but she kept that locked in her chest. She was Lady Sansa’s sworn sword, after all.

Nothing else.

“We can’t trust him,” declared Arya, turning to Daenerys and giving her the support she needed. “He attacked my father in the streets. He tried to destroy my house and my family, the same as he did yours.”

Ser Jaime let out a little scoff of laughter at that announcement. “Do you want me to apologise? Because I won’t. We were at war. Would I do things differently? Perhaps, but I would always protect those I love. I’d do that a thousand times.”

“Including freeing me?” interjected Lord Tyrion, a curious light in his eyes.

For a split second, the arrogant Kingslayer mask dropped from his face, and Brienne could see the Jaime she loved so well peering out. “Even that,” he admitted. “You are family.”

“He is an _enemy,_ ” announced Daenerys, seeking support in Jon Snow’s unreadable grey eyes. “We need the Lannister army, but I will not accept having my father’s murderer as their general. I _will not._ ”

Finally, Jon Snow spoke. “Perhaps we can send him to the Wall. The Night’s Watch is in charge of moving the refugees south. Maybe Ser Jaime can be of use there.”

Once more, Addam Marbrand spoke. “The Lannister men will not accept another man as our leader. We want the Lion of Lannister. No one else.”

“Then it seems we have reached a stalemate,” said Ser Davos good humouredly, trying to ease the mounting tension in the room. “We need the Lannisters, but the Lannisters will not be parted from Ser Jaime, and many people in this room do not trust Ser Jaime. If only there was a way to create a certain level of _trust_ between two warring factions. Surely, there are ways of coming to an agreement, especially as we have so many courteous, noble _ladies_ in this room who may be able to imagine a way out of this predicament.”

Confused, Brienne looked at the ladies in the chamber. Other than Lady Sansa, there was nothing especially courteous about herself, nor Queen Daenerys, nor Arya Stark. In fact, one had a magic sword, one two assassins’ daggers, and the third three dragons. There seemed nothing ladylike or courteous about that at all. Therefore, Brienne did not find it too surprising that she found her confusion matched in Arya and Daenerys’ expressions. It was strangely comforting.

On the other hand, Lady Sansa was smiling. “Oh yes, of _course_ Ser Davos. What an elegant suggestion. How best to bring two warring houses together? Why, a marriage of course.”

While Ser Jaime remained impassive, Queen Daenerys scoffed, her disgust evident. “He is not marrying _me.”_

“I did not say _you_ , your Grace,” said Lady Sansa courteously, “there are lots of women in Winterfell who could make Ser Jaime a fitting bride, and in doing so end this fighting.”

At that point, Arya started an enraged monologue on the role that House Lannister had had in the Red Wedding, in the murder of her brother and mother when they should have been protected by guest right. Brienne barely heard what Arya was saying, however, as Lady Sansa was looking at Brienne, a knowing smile on her face. It made Brienne blush and drop her eyes to the floor. She had thought her feelings a secret, she had thought…

“Excuse me, Lady Stark,” began Ser Jaime, his tone more considerate than it had been on first entering the room, “but I had nothing to do with the deaths of your mother or brother. I was in captivity at the time. You cannot hold me culpable for the sins of my father, just as I do not hold you culpable for the sins of yours.”

As he declared that unilateral amnesty on past crimes, Ser Jaime’s eyes flitted to Queen Daenerys, who flushed furiously. Perhaps she had heard stories of what her father was, for just then she made a little exhale of breath to compose herself. “Fine. Mayhaps Lady Sansa is speaking sense. A marriage between the Kingslayer and one of our own women may be what is needed to fulfil the absolute minimum level of trust we will need in our allies in the coming war.”

Of course, Ser Jaime could not help himself, so he said, “thank you for your, magnanimity, _my lady_.”

“ _Your Grace,”_ Daenerys corrected again, clearly barely keeping her temper restrained.

“I am not married yet,” he retorted, all Lannister arrogance and pride.

 _Yet he would be soon,_ thought Brienne glumly. Necessity called for it. To bond the army of the living together, Ser Jaime would have to take a wife. A small part of Brienne was happy for him; he deserved to be loved, and she hoped whoever he picked would be able to do that for him. And maybe that beautiful young woman would be able to give him children; children he could hold, and in turn give all the love that Brienne knew was burning inside him.

“Then we must arrange the marriage as quickly as possible,” said Queen Daenerys, turning to Jon Snow and the two Lady Starks. “We must draw up a list of eligible women. Kingslayer, we will have your list by tomorrow and from there you can choose…”

“I do not need a list of eligible ladies,” said Ser Jaime swiftly, a charming smile appearing on his face. “I know which of your women I want.”

While Queen Daenerys raised an eyebrow, intrigued, Jon Snow’s face turned dark. “You are not having either of my sisters.”

“I do not want either of your sisters,” answered Ser Jaime, “pardon the insult, Lady Sansa, Lady Arya.”

While Arya continued to glower, Lady Sansa gave him a courteous smile. “None taken, Ser Jaime.”

There was a momentary silence then before Queen Daenerys fixed him with a searching look. “Who do you want to take to wife, then, Kingslayer?”

Without a second thought, Ser Jaime’s eyes flitted from Queen Daenerys and for the first time since he entered the room, he looked at Brienne. As she was a weak maiden when it came to him, her heart went into a gallop. “Wench,” he said, dropping all pretence at that cocksure attitude he had adopted since arriving at Winterfell. “What do you say?”

As one, everyone in the room turned to look at Brienne. Queen Daenerys opened her mouth in confusion. Lady Arya raised her eyebrows, surprised, and Tormund Giantsbane let out a hearty laugh. In the mounting silence, Brienne’s stomach swooped. Surely this had to be a joke or mistake. Yes, she and Ser Jaime shared a bond forged by trauma, friendship, and genuine respect, and of course it was only natural for her to fall for him. He was light. But the other way around? He could not know what he wanted. Maybe his horse kicked him in the head or something.

“What do I say to what?” she asked, turning a violent red. She hated that everybody’s eyes were on her; they must see her as a silly fool pining for a god. Brienne stood up straight. She would not let him mock her, not when Lady Sansa could have a list of eligible young ladies for him to marry on the morrow.

He gave her a crooked smile, as if they were jesting over a game of Cyvasse. “My proposal.”

“I think…” she began, trying to stop herself burning up like a bonfire. “I think that a sensible marriage is a good thing for you. Marriage to someone from our side could… help foster a sense of trust between us, just as Ser Davos said…”

As her words trailed to nothing, Ser Jaime just looked at her more intently. “Come on wench, don’t play the fool. We know each other too well for that.”

There was no use hiding anymore. Feeling her face flush, Brienne kept her eyes on him, determinedly not looking at anyone else. If she did so, she feared she would fall. “You cannot be serious, ser.”

“I am serious,” he said, walking forward until he was right in front of her, his eyes burning. “I have never been more serious about anything in all of my life. The last time we spoke I told you how I felt and nothing has changed. I want you. I love you. And you _must_ be my wife.”

Since the time in the snowy courtyard of the Eyrie, Brienne had managed to convince herself that she had dreamed those words - _I love you_ \- but now he had just said them in front of everybody. Then again, maybe this was a collective hallucination.

“I cannot,” she stammered, to which his face fell. “You now have the pick of the North. Surely you can find someone prettier, wittier, more beautiful than me. You could go back out to your tent, think about what you truly want, and then tomorrow Queen Daenerys and Lady Sansa could find the daughter of a northern bannerman who would suit you just fine…”

“I will not leave until you say yes,” declared Jaime, his eyes burning, “because I’m scared of walking out of this room and never feeling the rest of my whole life the way I feel when I’m with you. I want _you,_ no one else.”

“But you cannot!” Brienne cried, barely noticing that everyone was staring at her. “You are Jaime Lannister, and I am…”

“Brienne of Tarth,” he said passionately, his hand jumping to her cheek. In spite of all her fears, she could not help but lean into the warmth. “The only good thing in this whole shit world. You are honourable and kind where other people are venal and cruel. You are honest and true when others resort to lies. You are noble. You are just. You are bright, and so full of light that sometimes I feel like I have been blinded.”

“Jaime…” she cried, feeling unable to digest what he was saying. Even so, Ser Jaime just kept speaking, as if his heart was overflowing and there was nothing that he could do to stop it.

“And I am so sorry that I am the only one who can see it,” Jaime continued, his voice laden with emotion. “I am sorry that I am an old cripple with shit for honour. I am sorry I am not worthy of you, and that you would be demeaning yourself by marrying the Kingslayer. But I am a free man now and I know what I want. _You._ I love you, Brienne, and it would be the greatest honour of my life if you would consider being my wife.”

He looked at her so passionately that there could be no doubt that Jaime was not making fun of her. It made all her resistance dissolve at once. “Of course I will marry you, Ser Jaime, as long as Lady Sansa gives me leave…”

“You have my permission,” said Lady Sansa swiftly, smiling as if she were a young girl who still believed in songs and stories. “The wedding will be arranged as soon as a septon can be found. As the two of you are southerners, it is only right that you are wed in the light of the Seven.”

Given that Brienne herself was too busy grinning like an idiot, she left it to Ser Jaime to speak. “No, Lady Sansa, we will be married in front of the Old Gods.”

“Why?” asked Lady Sansa, genuinely intrigued.

“Because when you realise you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible. I will not wait for a septon,” Jaime smiled, taking Brienne’s hand and bringing it to his lips. “I will marry Lady Brienne in the godswood first thing in the morning. I want to make our alliance secure.”

The way he said _alliance_ made Brienne want to laugh; Jaime Lannister was not the kind of man to care about fealty to a Dragon Queen over what he felt in his heart. And apparently, he loved Brienne of Tarth. He sealed it with a kiss to the back of her hand that made her burn.

Both Jaime and Brienne were laughing when Queen Daenerys stood up, throwing her wave of white blond hair over her shoulder. “Lady Brienne is not a northerner. Lady Brienne is not…”

“Excuse me, Your Grace,” said Lady Sansa gently. “You are not a Northerner either. Lady Brienne is my sworn sword and she is loyal. I trust her marriage to Ser Jaime will be a solid foundation to our new alliance.”

When Jaime spoke again, he was not looking at Queen Daenerys or Lady Sansa, but at Brienne. “And I will marry no one else. No one else.”

At that pronouncement, Brienne went bright red and lifted his hand to her lips in echo of his kiss. As she did so, Ser Davos poured himself a glass of wine and raised it up. “To Ser Jaime and Lady Brienne.”

“Ser Jaime and Lady Brienne!” chorused everyone else. Once they had been toasted, Ser Jaime gave his soon to be bride one last smile before pacing back to the centre of the room. When he reached the spot, Jaime put the mask of the Kingslayer back on, but Brienne could see right through it, straight to Jaime Lannister.

“So, where shall my men be lodged?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks very much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it :)
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	16. Faster and Slower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Margaery is in labour, Jaime tries to encourage Brienne to drive faster...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, so this is a really old ask from a trope mash up of "Anger Born of Worry" and "Baby Fic" from anonymous. I hope you enjoy!

“Wench,” growled Jaime, shooting a look over his shoulder at the people in the back seat of the car, before turning back to Brienne, who was gripping the steering wheel in a kind of white-knuckled terror.

“What?”

“You’ve got to drive faster. Margaery is about to explode.”

“She is not about to explode, Jaime,” replied Brienne tersely. “She is about to give birth. It’s a different thing entirely.”

“No,” interrupted Margaery from the backseat, halfway through a contraction and roaring with pain. “Jaime is right! I am about to explode! Please can you drive faster, Brienne!”

“I can’t…” mumbled Brienne, not making any attempt to speed up the car.

“Why not?” asked Renly impatiently as he dabbed his sister-in-law’s forehead with a flannel. “I _also_ think that Margaery is going to explode, so can you please hurry up.”

“I’m thirding that suggestion,” added Loras, before letting out a little squeal when Margaery crushed his fingers.

“This is the last time I do anything for you two!” cried Margaery dramatically, shooting a venomous look at both Renly and Loras. “I know you wanted a baby but… THIS… REALLY… HURTS!”

Just then, Brienne spotted a traffic light in the distance about to turn back to red, so zoned out of Margaery, Renly, and Loras’ bickering and tried to concentrate on her driving. Jaime, however, had other plans. Leaning across to her, his breath tickling her cheek, he said, “wench, if you put your foot on it, you’ll be able to beat the lights and we won’t have to wait.”

To Brienne, that sounded like a terrible, _terrible_ plan.

“Jaime,” said Brienne exasperatedly, “I have just passed my test, I do not want to get points on my license already.”

He rolled his eyes. “Then let _me_ drive.”

“No!” she chided as she slowed down in order to stop in front of the traffic lights. “This is my car, and you are not insured.”

“I could have been insured,” he said accusingly. “We’re housemates after all. It would have made things easier, especially as we both knew that Margaery was on the cusp of giving birth.”

“AAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”

“But it isn’t your car!”

“Well, it could be my car if you just _put me on the insurance_ like I’ve asked you four hundred times,” Jaime retorted sharply. “It means we can avoid situations like _this._ ”

“Like what?”

Jaime rolled his eyes for a second time. “Like Margaery giving birth in the back seat of your car because you are too scared to drive over five miles an hour!”

Instead of consoling anyone or getting any closer to persuading Brienne to put her abominable housemate on the insurance, Jaime’s statement just caused pandemonium on the back seat. “I can’t give birth in the car!” squawked Margaery. “I just can’t!”

“Yes,” agreed Renly, a horrified look on his face. “Apple can’t be born in Brienne’s car.”

Loras shot him an annoyed look. “How many times? We are not calling our daughter _Apple._ We are not celebrities.”

“We should be,” smiled Renly with a wink, which only got Loras laughing. However, that was quickly interrupted by the pain of childbirth once more, as Margaery continued to scream.

“AAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”

“Wench,” said Jaime warningly, “when this light goes green, you are going to bomb it out of here, okay?”

“But what about traffic restrictions?” replied Brienne meekly, “and the Green Cross Code?”

Jaime rolled his eyes. “Nobody cares about traffic restrictions… or the Green Cross Code. We just care about getting Margaery to the hospital. So, if you don’t mind, will you just break the damn speed limit?”

Jaime’s flippant attitude to rules was entirely typical of him, but it nevertheless infuriated Brienne. “Jaime it is important to think about the safety and comfort of the passengers in the car - that is what my driving instructor Mr Goodwin told me anyway - so I will not _bomb it out of here_ as you so eloquently put it, as I care about everyone in this car.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you bombed it,” said Renly, interrupting Brienne’s confidence in her driving technique.

“Neither would I,” confessed Loras, “Margaery is hurting my fingers.”

“AND I AM GIVING BIRTH!” added Margaery with a shout, as if that justified everything.

“Go Brienne!” cried Jaime.

“No, I…”

“Yes Brienne!” agreed Loras.

Renly backed him up in an instant. “Margaery needs to go to hospital _now.”_

“AAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”

“Okay, fine!” snapped Brienne furiously, angry that her friends were all pushing her into this, even though she was as worried about Margaery’s wellbeing as they were and wanted nothing more than for her to have a safe and orderly journey to the hospital. “Fine! I will break the damn speeding laws; you just watch me.”

Brienne had to admit she felt a little gratified when she slammed her foot down on the accelerator and Jaime was nearly propelled into the window screen as a result. She did not let up when the car hit 35, nor 40, nor 50 and felt a strange smug satisfaction when she hit a speed that could be described as _bombing it,_ and Jaime looked vaguely terrified.

Her jubilation at her small victory shattered very quickly, however, as just outside the hospital a sneakily hidden speed camera flashed, meaning Brienne was going to get several points on her license whether she liked it or not. To her immense annoyance, Jaime just smiled teasingly.

“You know, wench, it is illegal to break the speed limit.”

Feeling as if a thunder cloud was hanging ominously over her head, Brienne tried to ignore him as she drove into the hospital car park, making sure she was as close to the front door as possible. Once the car was safely parked up, she went to help Renly and Loras get Margaery out of the car, then the little group rushed their pregnant lady into the hospital.

“Excuse me!” cried Renly the second they entered the building, “we need help! We have a very pregnant lady here!”

“AAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”

Two seconds later, a nurse appeared out of nowhere with a wheelchair and a badge naming her as _Talisa Smith._ She looked down at Margaery sympathetically, as Renly and Loras helped her into the chair.

“Hello,” she said carefully. “My name is Talisa. What is yours?”

“M-M-Margaery.”

“Hello Margaery,” Talisa replied. “Now, before we get you to the maternity ward, I just have some quick questions. How long have you been having these contractions for?”

“About an hour,” whimpered Margaery.

“And how far apart are the contractions?”

When Margaery looked lost, Loras supplied the answer for her. “About a minute.”

That caused a worried look to cross the nurse’s face. “What is the matter?” asked Renly.

At his question, Talisa instantly gave him a reassuring look. “Oh, it is just that we might have a case of a precipitate labour here. It is good you got her here as quickly as you could.” Even as Brienne felt herself burning, Jaime smiled at her at this tiny triumph. According to Talisa, breaking the speed limit had been necessary. However, Brienne found a way to ignore him as Talisa continued to speak. “Now, you are allowed two people onto the ward with you, Margaery. Who would you like to take with you?”

“Renly and Loras,” she confirmed, pointing them out, before starting up moaning again. “Ow! Ow! Ow!”

“Okay,” responded Talisa reassuringly. “Let’s get you up to the ward. Renly, Loras, you can also come too. I will have to ask everyone else to wait here.”

The change from Talisa’s comforting tone to her organising Margaery’s transportation to the maternity ward was so fast that it almost alarmed Brienne, because the latter was executed with military precision. It also meant that Renly and Loras only had time to offer Jaime and Brienne some stifled thanks before following in Talisa and Margaery’s wake, clucking like two panicked hens.

Once they were gone, however, Brienne found she could turn back to the issue at hand. Jaime. Shooting him a vicious look, Brienne pivoted on her heel and then marched out of the doors and back towards the car. He had behaved so terribly to her on the car ride that she was _determined_ to abandon him in the car park and go home alone. Jaime had other ideas however, because he was soon jogging behind her to catch up.

“Hey, wench, slow down.”

“Oh,” she said dismissively, picking up her pace. “ _Now_ you want me to slow down when it is convenient for you? Five minutes ago you got me a speeding ticket because you wanted me to go faster!”

Jaime chuckled at that. “Calm down, I want you to go faster in most aspects of your life. You normally don’t listen to me yet this time… you did.”

Not knowing what he was talking about, Brienne charged towards her car as quickly as she could, hoping to escape him. Instead, she found that he was almost stuck to her side, meeting her step for step. “What’s the matter?” Jaime asked as they reached the car. “We got Margaery to the hospital, didn’t we? There’s no need to be angry with me.”

Turning around to face him, Brienne could not help but feel very, very annoyed. She hated that he had got everyone in the car to agree with him, hated that he had got her a speeding ticket, but most of all she hated that he had been right about the pressing need to get Margaery to the hospital. “Sometimes,” she thundered, fixing him with an angry expression. “I really, really loathe you!”

At that statement, Jaime just gave her a jaunty grin, which Brienne thought was designed to annoy. “Well, right back at you wench, because sometimes I _despise_ you too.”

“Rich boy,” she spat accusingly, knowing that always riled him.

Jaime let out a dismissive laugh and came right back at her. “Peasant.”

“Dick.”

“Arse.”

“Kingslayer,” Brienne barked, stepping forward into his personal space, knowing that he hated being known by his high school nickname above anything else.

When he moved towards her, a furious glint in his eye, they were almost chest to chest. “ _Wench.”_

Perhaps it was his closeness, perhaps that his face was flushed with an amused annoyance that could be mistaken for arousal, or perhaps just that they had been skirting around this for so long that at some point it had to happen, but Brienne was not in the least surprised when Jaime lunged for her mouth first and she caught his lips with hers in response, kissing and kissing until they were running out of breath. While his arms wrapped around her waist, her hands jumped to his hair, and she gripped hold so tight she feared she was hurting him. Jaime did not seem to mind, though; perhaps it was the relief that they were finally, _finally_ doing this. In comparison to the wait, what was a little pain?

“Well,” smiled Jaime the second they broke apart, “we haven’t done that before.”

“No,” conceded Brienne. “We haven’t.” There was another pause, before Jaime lifted his hand to her face and cupped her cheek. Brienne could not help but lean into his touch, blushing furiously as she did so.

At this increase in intimacy, Jaime’s smile grew even larger. “You know, wench. I am such a liar. I don’t hate you.”

He looked so beautiful and vulnerable in that moment that Brienne wanted to cry. “I don’t hate you either, Jaime.”

“Good to know,” he replied, a laugh caught under his words. There was yet another silence, but this one was not awkward, as Jaime swiped his thumb along Brienne’s cheekbone as gently as if she were made of precious porcelain. It made Brienne feel as if she were dancing on air.

“Jaime?”

“Mmm?”

“You know I don’t just _not_ hate you,” she said, trying not stammer, even though these were going to be the hardest words she ever said.

He raised an eyebrow at her. “No?”

“No.”

“That’s even better,” he replied, before biting his lip. Brienne struggled not to look at it.

“Why is that?”

Jaime then smiled at her so brightly that Brienne wondered if there was any need for the sun anymore.

“Because I love you too.”

And then he kissed her again, and they quite forgot about their argument.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks very much for reading. As ever, I love to hear what you think in the form of comments or kudos :)
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	17. Brienne ed Jaime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne goes on a journey for Jaime...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is for the Movie Quote Mash-Up and I used:
> 
> 23\. "Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while.“ - The Princess Bride (1987)
> 
> 24\. "You will never age for me, nor fade, nor die.” - Shakespeare in Love (1998) 
> 
> I also based this a little on the plot line of the opera Orfeo ed Eurydice by Gluck.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

**Act One**

When she first saw Jaime’s dead body, Brienne did not quite believe it. He could not _die_. He was _Jaime Lannister_ , as constant as the waxing and waning moon; ever changeable, wearing a thousand faces, but always hiding her truth self - only visible to her - behind his entrancing green eyes. He was her protector, her lover, her friend, her husband. He could not be gone. It was impossible.

Yet here he was lying in the snow beneath Winterfell’s walls, an ice spear impaling his chest, his golden hand detached from his arm, his body limp and broken. Unmistakably dead. A fact.

“I am sorry, Lady Brienne,” came Lady Sansa’s voice; small, girlish, and entirely inconsequential in the face of Brienne’s grief. “He died fighting with honour. A true knight, just as you said he was. At least he did not come back as one of _them_.”

In spite of the fact that Lady Sansa was positively heaping praise on Jaime, Brienne could barely hear her, because she was down on her knees, scooping him into her arms, stroking his blood-matted hair out of his eyes. He had never looked so innocent, nor so lost, before.

“Jaime?” she said, her eyes filling with tears. “Jaime? Are you there?”

There was no answer, just a glassy-eyed stare absent of him. She pressed her palm onto his cheek and was horrified to find it was icy to touch, a complete contrast to Sansa’s warm hand that squeezed her shoulder. “I will make sure he is buried with all the honours fit for heroes. His bravery will not be forgotten.”

“He will not be forgotten," Brienne vowed stubbornly, still looking down at Jaime, "because he is not _dead_.”

At her sworn sword’s sudden turn to insanity, Lady Sansa’s tone became full of concern. “Lady Brienne, I am sorry, but he _is_ dead…”

Yet Brienne did not listen to Lady Sansa. Her words were only for Jaime, who she was sure could still hear her… somewhere…

“You will never age for me, nor fade, nor die,” she vowed, feeling the magic in the air that had been alight from the moment she knew that ice demons, dragons, and flaming twin swords existed in the world. “Because I will come and find you ser, and I will bring you back. I cannot lose you now. Not now. Not after everything. I love you and I refuse to be parted from you. Not again. I will find you, my love. I make you this vow. I swear it.”

**Act Two**

Most residents of Winterfell thought she had gone quite mad, but Brienne knew better. Even as Lady Sansa had him laid out in the Great Hall and had guards begin a vigil round his body, Brienne stayed out in the godswood, sitting by the heart tree and praying that the Old Gods would hear her pleas. _Bring him back. Bring him home to me._ However, after staying up all night just listening to the winds whistling through the leaves, Brienne slowly came to the realisation they were not heeding her; perhaps they only answered the prayers of Starks. In their absence, she decided to try the sept in Winter Town the following morning.

At dawn, in the small sept, more ramshackle than monumental, Brienne was greeted by the Seven Who Are One carved into niches all along the walls. Starting with the statue nearest to her, Brienne lit a candle and made a small offering of gold and food. Honey was sweet; surely the Father could be bribed to bring her love back in exchange. For the Mother, to accompany her prayers, she sung a short song in a gentle alto. It spoke of protecting all men, but Brienne’s thoughts were for Jaime.

_‘Gentle Mother, font of mercy,_

_Save our sons from war, we pray._

_Stay the swords and stay the arrows,_

_Let them know a better day.’_

For the Smith, she brought a finely gilded dagger wrought by Winterfell’s blacksmith, and for the Crone a ball of freshly dyed wool, perfect for knitting a warm winter cloak for a child in need. She gave the Maid a blue winter rose, but worried about the choice of gift after she had offered it, as the Maid had once given Galladon of Morne a sword, leaving Brienne wondering whether she wanted something more martial. However, it was to the Warrior that she pledged Widow’s Wail along with her prayers, believing one of the most beautiful and deadly blades in the world would be the price for Jaime Lannister’s soul. It felt fitting.

Once all her offerings were made, she prayed for hours and hours on her hands and knees, until her bones ached from the cold in the sept and her eyes drooped with tiredness. It was not until night fall that Brienne got to her feet, determined to return to Winterfell to see if any of the gods had listened to her impassioned prayers. Wiping her half-dried tears from her cheeks, Brienne began to walk towards the door when she heard a voice. Deep, sonorous, and filled with a strange knowing, it sent chills running up her spine.

“No prayers for me?”

Holding a breath deep within her chest, Brienne turned around to see a man standing by the Maid’s altar, his face concealed by a heavy black hood. If she was a different person, perhaps she would have been scared. However, Brienne of Tarth had seen so much death that now it was here, wearing a human face, she could not conjure such a primal emotion as fear for this man.

“If you want a prayer, I will pray to you,” she said, feeling her ardent belief swelling in her heart. “I will prostrate myself at your feet, if that is what is required. In return, all I want is that you give him back to me. _Bring Jaime back._ ”

As her voice faltered when she uttered his name, Jaime’s glassy eyes flashed across her mind’s eye, where once she had only seen them laughing and full of light. The Hooded Man’s teeth were just about visible beneath his cowl, so when he smiled, Brienne could see them glittering. He looked almost hungry.

“I cannot bring him back.”

“Why not?” she cried. “Jon Snow came back. Lady Catelyn came back. Beric Dondarrion came back. Why not him? Why not Jaime?”

The Hooded Man took a few moments to answer her, but when he did, he adopted the tone of a liege lord issuing a quest to an errant knight. “Because it is against the rules. I cannot bring him back, but _you_ can.”

At his suggestion, Brienne’s eyes went very wide. “Me?”

“You, Brienne of Tarth,” the Hooded Man replied, his words echoing off the stone walls of the sept. “You can bring your lover back, if only you are willing.”

“How?” she asked desperately, the promise of Jaime alive and in her arms once more pushing her into a concocted mix of panic and terror. “What do I have to do?”

“You must journey to the Underworld,” said the Hooded Man, as if it were the obvious answer, “and bring your love back yourself.”

Brienne furrowed her brow. In dealing with death, she assumed there must be some sort of trick, some sort of bargain to be made. The shadowbinders conversed with the other side and knew more than mortal men, but there was something unmistakeably different about them. Something _other._ Yet if Brienne had to ostracise herself to save Jaime, she would do it. After all, no one had ever truly accepted her for what she was… other than him. The world seemed was a small price to pay for his soul.

“How do I do it?” she asked lightly, as if the man had not offered her the greatest prize of her life.

Once again, he smiled, his teeth razor sharp. “Take my hand and I will lead you to where you need to go; the other side, the Underworld… it has a thousand names in a thousand different tongues. The only condition to me playing ferryman is that, once you have found your beloved, you may not look on his face until you return to the world of the living.”

“Anything,” Brienne declared, knowing it was true even before the word was fully formed in her mind.

The Hooded Man held out his hand. “Well then. Come with me.”

**Act Three**

The Underworld was different from how Brienne expected it to be. Winged women with sharp, bloodied talons flew overhead, swooping down on her to pick her apart before she could ever find Jaime. Never afraid, Brienne fought them off with Oathkeeper, slashing at them with her magic sword in the way she once had against murderers, Bloody Mummers, and the Undead.

 _Jaime,_ she thought. _Jaime. Jaime. Jaime. I am coming for you._

After she passed the hellish rocky landscaped ruled by the Furies, Brienne arrived in a meadow filled with flowers, alive with sweetness of spring. The place was so beautiful and tranquil that she felt compelled to drop her blood-stained sword and just revel in the peaceful feeling flooding through her veins.

 _If Jaime is here, am I being cruel in bringing him back?_ she wondered.

However, Brienne’s momentary philosophising ground to a halt when she heard a voice.

“Brienne… Brienne… are you there?”

There was no mistaking it. Jaime was here, with her.

Remembering what the Hooded Man had said, Brienne turned her back to the sound, determined to save him. “I am here, my love,” she smiled, her heart leaping with joy, “and you must come with me. I will save you. I promise.”

In life, Jaime was prone to talking and talking and _talking,_ but on the other side he was silent and the only sign she had of his presence was the soft sound of his feet tramping through the grass. Once they returned to the land of the Furies, Brienne steeled herself with Oathkeeper again, determined to cut every single one of them down if they dared laid a finger on Jaime. However, to her surprise, the winged women held back, just watching. Feeling unnerved, Brienne was not sure whether their fearful stares were for her or Jaime. 

Her heart only started to lift once more when she saw the door leading back to the sept. Although the wood itself was plain, Brienne could see the light beyond, streaming through the cracks.

Beyond was life. Beyond was her love. Beyond was her and Jaime. Forever.

Just as her fingers touched the door handle, Jaime spoke for the first time since they had left the meadow. “Do you love me?” he asked, so softly she barely heard him.

Considering that she had gone from hell to heaven and back for him, it seemed a ridiculous question, so she turned around to face him, hoping that every inch of her love was carved into her features. “Of course I love you, Jaime,” she replied, awed by his brilliant beauty even on this precipice between life and death. “I love you more than anything. I walked through the veil and lived in death to find you. I did not want our love to end because you died.”

The way he smiled, gentle and sad, was the only sign of the terrible mistake she had just made. “Death cannot stop true love,” Jaime whispered, his voice sounding like a song. “All it can do is delay it for a while.”

And then he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! I would love to hear what you think in a comment or with kudos :)
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	18. Man Flu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime has Man Flu. Brienne is forced to look after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I received this tumblr prompt from Anonymous: "Braime Modern Au — Jaime gets a cold and Brienne demands that he wears her comfiest pyjamas/cosiest socks whilst she looks after him. All the softness pls 🥺"
> 
> Now, this is a little spikier than soft, but I hope you enjoy all the same!

“Weeeennnncccchhhh!” Jaime croaked from the lounge, doing his best “slowly dying of the Black Death” impression. “Wench! Help me!”

 _I am going to finish this goddamn marking,_ Brienne told herself, _even if it kills me. My students need feedback on their essays, and I don’t want to disappoint Professor Stark…_

“Weeeeeennnnncccchhhhhh! Please! Can you come in here a second?”

At his incessant moaning, Brienne slammed her pen down and got to her feet. Despite the fact Jaime knew she had twenty undergraduate essays to mark and a chapter to revise of her thesis, he seemed determined to distract her with his plaintive groans from the next room. Trying to keep her temper, Brienne therefore went marching into the lounge, her head held high. As expected, she discovered her abominable housemate sitting on the sofa wrapped in the blanket she knitted him for Christmas, his cheeks flushed, watching _The Kingslayer and the Wench_. If she wasn’t so irritated, she might have found the sight adorable, but at that moment she was thinking about Gendry’s essay and the fact that she did not want to be pulled into looking after said abominable housemate. After all, if Brienne spent the afternoon fussing over Jaime, she might accidentally show her feelings for him and there was nothing in the world that scared her more. Jaime would laugh at her, or at worse, pity her.

She couldn’t have that.

“What is the matter, Jaime?” Brienne asked tersely, folding her arms across her chest, “I am trying to work!”

To her immense annoyance, he started pouting at her. “I am _dying,_ wench.”

“No you are not,” she countered. “You have a cold.”

“I have the flu.”

“You have _man_ flu,” Brienne corrected him. “Which is not a real condition.”

Jaime pouted again and stuck his bottom lip out. “Still, I _am_ cold.”

Brienne cocked an eyebrow at him. “And why is that my problem?”

“You are my roommate who knitted me this blanket, but I’m _still cold,_ ” he pouted, before his teeth started chattering. “You have a duty to warm me up!”

Brienne was quite sceptical of that conclusion, so she gave him a disapproving look. “I have a duty to my students. I need to mark their essays by tomorrow so I can get feedback to them in time for the next essay cycle…”

“Wench,” he said, his voice and his expression soft. “ _Please_. I am cold.”

In that moment, Brienne truly hated herself for how weak he made her and hated him even more for how very much she loved him. However, seeing the gentle way he was smiling at her, Brienne felt her resolve crumble. “Well then,” she said, almost chidingly, “have you got socks on?”

He shook his head, blushing slightly. “No, wench. Can you go get me some?”

“I do not want to go rooting around in your sock drawer,” she said, hoping she sounded suitably annoyed at him. Unfortunately, that only made his smile grow bigger.

“Then go rooting around in _your_ sock drawer,” Jaime grinned, showing her his perfect teeth. “I wouldn’t mind wearing your socks, servant wench.”

Fixing him with a look of mock disapproval, Brienne turned on her heels and went back into her room. She did not look at the pile of ignored essays, or her laptop which contained her precious thesis. Instead, she marched straight for her chest of drawers to find her fluffy pink socks that Jaime always said looked incredibly warm but, at the same time, would make him look faintly ridiculous.

He laughed when she showed him which ones she had chosen for him. “I think you are trying to get revenge on me.”

Brienne let out an amused laugh at that accurate summation of her feelings. “Put them on and, while you do, you can tell me if there is anything else you need… your lordship.”

“I think a warm drink would be nice,” he croaked, once again putting on the plague victim act. “Why don’t you go and make us both a nice cup of tea, servant wench?” He was doing it to be annoying, Brienne was sure, but even so she went into the kitchen and made him a tea, with milk and two sugars just the way he liked it.

Even though his mood irked her, Brienne was used to annoying Jaime; most of the time it manifested itself in teasing jokes or interrupting her studies or making her laugh until she cried at one of his stupid impressions. Yet what she could not cope with is what happened once she had put his tea down on the coffee table and sat down next to him, because Jaime was positively _cruel._

“Wench,” he said, after having taken a sip of his tea.

“Yes, Jaime?”

“I’m still cold.”

Brienne rolled her eyes. “Well, I don’t think there is much more I can do for you at this stage, except perhaps buy you a one way ticket to the Sahara Desert.”

“There is,” he replied, giving her a mischievous grin.

“What’s that then?”

Jaime did not even wait a second to respond. “Hold me.”

At Jaime’s request - which was accompanied by a soft, tender expression that almost burned her - Brienne found herself almost babbling. “I… you… we…”

However, Jaime clearly was not in the mood to put up with her nervousness and moved so he was sitting right next to her, giving her little choice than to acquiesce to his demand. Once Brienne had wrapped her arms around him, he reciprocated immediately, before resting his head on her shoulder and sighing. For a moment, it almost felt real; if she closed her eyes, Brienne could imagine that she was being held by Jaime, her boyfriend, who loved her endlessly.

“Mmm,” Jaime murmured. “I feel warm now.”

Although Brienne could her the tenderness in Jaime’s voice as he spoke, it felt as if he had stabbed her with an ice spear. This whole thing hurt too much, especially when she knew it could never be real… that Jaime could never _really_ want her. The thought was ludicrous. He was lovely, beautiful Jaime; her hilarious, biting, sarcastic, annoying, abominable housemate. In contrast, she was just… Brienne.

She only realised she was crying when Jaime looked up at her, his big green eyes wide.

“Wench, what is wrong?” he asked, shocked, lifting himself up from her shoulder. As he reached out to her, Brienne shook her head in an effort to not speak and therefore calm down, but the tears went rolling down her cheeks quite against her will, making it impossible. “Tell me,” Jaime begged, “please.”

Knowing that she could not hide it any longer, Brienne pulled away from him, retreating to the other side of the sofa. He tried to follow her, but she held up a hand to stop him. “I can’t do this anymore,” she sobbed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Do what?” Jaime asked stupidly, gazing at her with innocent eyes.

“ _This,”_ she almost shouted. “The joking. The teasing. The snuggling. Having you so near when I want you _nearer_.”

At her confession, Jaime’s eyes suddenly went even wider. The palpable shock in his expression was so horrifying that Brienne wanted to run away. Jaime had other ideas, however, as he opened his mouth to speak. “I…”

“Please don’t,” begged Brienne, her sadness overwhelming any desire for rational conversation. “I don’t want you to say something nice to let me down gently. I don’t need that. I don’t want lies from you.”

“Brienne, I…”

“Even though I _want_ you, we are also friends,” Brienne continued, determined to trammel over any painful kindnesses he was clearly intending to lob at her. “I want the truth from you, even though I know it will hurt… even though we can never be.”

“Can you just listen to me for a…?”

“Because you are so handsome and lovely and talented, Jaime, and I am just me. I don’t want my feelings to be a burden on you, or ruin our friendship, or…”

Brienne was just about to soliloquise at length on all the reasons why Jaime was a million light years out of her league, when he got a little bolshy and almost shouted, “wench, be quiet for a moment!”

At his interruption, Brienne found she could barely look at the plague-ridden love of her life, because she was terrified by what he was about to say. “I don’t want your pity…” she began, but he cut across her.

“I don’t want to give you my pity,” Jaime replied firmly, looking at her ardently. “I just want to say, that if I wasn’t feverish and dying right now, I would kiss those tears away.”

Then it was Brienne’s turn to look shocked and confused. “Wh-what?” she stammered, wondering if this was all some very strange dream. Maybe _she_ had Man Flu too, and this was just a really intensely pleasant side effect of the illness.

“You heard me,” Jaime said, his tone fiercer than the gentle smile he was giving her. “If I wasn’t feverish and dying right now, I would kiss those tears away, because I am so goddamn in love with you that I would hate you to think that I am in anyway pretending any of the stuff we do together. Okay?”

Jaime’s declaration was sort of the type of nonchalant admission that seemed so perfect for him, but it just succeeded in leaving Brienne nodding at him, a little shell-shocked. “Okay.”

“Good,” Jaime replied, looking relieved. “Because I would like to go back to snuggling if that is alright.”

“Okay,” repeated Brienne meekly. The second Jaime had her acquiescence, he lifted up the blanket and flung it over the both of them, before wrapping his arms around her once more and resting his head on her shoulder. Suddenly feeling an urgent duty to keep him warm, Brienne reciprocated enthusiastically, before leaning her head against his.

Jaime let out a happy little sigh at the contact.

With them cuddled up together, there was a pause that went on for several eons before Brienne finally found the courage to speak. “Jaime?”

“Mmm?”

“You know I am obviously totally in love with you too, don’t you?”

“Obviously,” replied Jaime with a smile, lifting his head so he could look at her as he said it. “I am very lovable, wench.”

“You are so modest,” she replied, barely able to contain her joy.

“And if we’re talking about totally obvious things,” Jaime added casually, “there is one more thing I would like to mention.”

“What’s that?”

He raised an eyebrow at her in an expression that became flirtatious. “When I am better, we are totally going to rail the fuck out of each other, okay?”

Brienne let out a splutter of laughter before giving her answer. “Well, _obviously.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! As ever, I would love to hear what you think via comments or kudos!
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	19. One Night Stand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne tells Margaery and Sansa all about her one night stand...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to resthefuture for the prompt "Hello there, I see you're taking prompts once again, I was thinking some Hospital AU: doctor Jaime and patient Brienne could be interesting? :)) And thank you for your work, I'm really enjoying it!"
> 
> I hope you like this!

“You. Did. What?” asked Margaery melodramatically over coffee.

Her best friend was speaking so loudly that Brienne had to do the universally recognised sign language for turning the volume down, just as Sansa supportively shushed Margaery. 

“Look,” said Brienne quietly, trying to set the tone, “if I am going to tell you this story, you are going to have to not scream down the coffee shop. Okay?”

“Okay!” grinned Margaery excitedly, before turning to Sansa. “Have we got everything? All the drinks we need? All the food? Have you been to the toilet? Because I don’t want the story of how Brienne _finally got rid of her V-Card_ interrupted.”

Even as Brienne looked a little horrified, Sansa let out a giggle. “We’ve got everything, and I am sitting comfortably. I am ready whenever Brienne is.”

At that moment, Brienne’s two best friends turned back to look at her, matching gleeful looks in their eyes. There was no escaping it. She was going to have to tell them everything.

“So,” she began, trying to think of the best way to put it, “last night, Renly called to ask if I would do him a favour and come and help him with the catering. Loras had called to say he was sick.”

Margaery rolled her eyes. “Seriously, that boy is useless.”

Brienne let out a breath of laughter. “I _do_ really think he was sick, but that didn’t help Renly, who had two hundred conference attendees to cater for at King’s Landing University.”

“Did you meet him there?” interjected Sansa excitedly, “what was the conference about?”

“Hold your horses, Sansa, you are getting ahead of yourself,” said Margaery, before turning back to Brienne and repeating the question. “What was the conference about?”

Brienne smiled at her eager friends. “Oh, it was some sort of cancer research things, I think. I don’t really know, though, as I was too busy helping Renly set out the buffet table. _Baratheon Catering_ is trying to expand its services, and the conference was the largest amount of people Renly has ever…”

Margaery raised her hand.

“What?” asked Brienne, a little sullen that her story was being interrupted.

“I don’t care about Renly’s catering company,” admitted Margaery. “I care about _this guy_ you slept with. What was his name?”

Brienne blushed thinking about him. He really had been the most beautiful man she had ever seen. “Jay,” she said with a smile, noticing the amusement in her friends’ eyes as they laughed at her blush. “He was at the conference giving a paper on… something medical, and then at the after-conference dinner, he kept hanging around with me because he did not want to sit at a table with Euron Greyjoy who, I quote, _thinks himself a Doctor Frankenstein.”_

“Romantic,” smiled Sansa, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “Is that what did it? All that medical talk?”

“No…” said Brienne slowly, thinking of Jay’s beautiful green eyes and his gold hair. “It was that he was funny… and then kept helping me carry around canapes, because he was bored and did not want to talk to any of the highfalutin stuff his fellow academics would indulge in. And then he said he sometimes wished that he had defied his father and not done a STEM degree, because he had a really interesting idea for a PhD on Oathkeeper and Widow’s Wail, arguing that they were forged from the same sword…”

“Oh god,” interrupted Margaery, rolling her eyes affectionately.

“What?” replied Brienne, even as Margaery shot a look at Sansa.

At her question, Sansa let out a little guffaw, while Margaery’s smile grew. “Don’t tell me. The second he mentioned Oathkeeper, your ovaries exploded, you dropped your knickers, and you let him have you on the buffet table.”

As Margaery and Sansa started giggling, Brienne went bright red and folded her arms across her chest. “Why do you have to be so coarse? If you want me to tell you the story, you will have to stop making fun of me.”

Sensing her seriousness, Margaery tempered her smile and then faked zipping her mouth shut. “Okay Brienne. Sansa and I are listening. You didn’t drop your knickers when Jay mentioned Oathkeeper. So, what did happen?”

“Well,” said Brienne, trying to gather her thoughts. “We then obviously talked about Oathkeeper and Widow’s Wail, and I argued that Blue Knight was most probably a female knight and then he went one further and said that not only was Blue Knight a woman, but that Blue Knight and Goldenhand were lovers…”

“And _then_ your ovaries exploded, you dropped your knickers, and you let him have you on the buffet table,” concluded Sansa, which made Margaery snort with laughter.

“No!” huffed Brienne, “that did not happen. It just meant we had more to talk about… and we agreed once my shift finished that we should go and get a drink.”

At that admission, Margaery and Sansa’s giggling turned into a sharp curiosity. “Where did he take you?” asked Sansa, her voice breathy.

“It was just a bar in the north of the city, called _The Iron Gate,_ ” smiled Brienne, remembering the way he had tucked her arm underneath his as they had walked to the bar, agreeing and agreeing on the age old love story of Blue Knight and Goldenhand the Just. The whole way, Brienne’s heart had been flip-flopping in her chest, her mind racing.

 _Why me?_ she had thought. _Why is he talking to me?_

“Oooh, I’ve been there,” said Margaery, taking a sip of her coffee. “Did you have one of those fire shots?”

Normally, Brienne would not have been tempted. She had work the following day and did not like to turn up with a hangover. However, there had been something in the way that Jay had said, “come on, have one round,” that had been strangely lilting and beguiling, so she had agreed.

“A few,” admitted Brienne, “and then we talked for hours and hours and hours, until eventually the bar closed, and we got kicked out.”

“And where did you go then?” asked Margaery, as if she knew where this was going.

Brienne could not help but blush. “We went back to his. He was nice and made me coffee, and then he told me all about this Valyrian Swords documentary series his brother was involved in creating, and that they needed someone to play the Blue Knight and that I might be perfect… and then I said as long as he played Goldenhand the Just!”

Margaery and Sansa almost screamed in unison. “Brienne!” squawked Margaery, “who knew you were such a flirt?”

“Did he flirt back?” asked Sansa, almost clapping in excitement.

“No,” said Brienne slowly, looking down at her drink. “He just kissed me…”

“AHHHHHHHHH!”

From there, Brienne told them everything that had happened while trying to keep it as PG as possible. The way Jay had kissed her as he directed her to his bedroom - her lips, her cheeks, her neck - had made her skin catch fire. Her momentary terror when she told him that she was a virgin, and that she had never done this before. His promise that he would make it good for her, and then how he _had_ made it good for her. That she saw stars.

“And then we woke up this morning and he was all… _cuddly,”_ said Brienne, her tone becoming less gushing and more concerned. “Is that normal? I thought men usually liked to bolt as quickly as possible the morning after.”

Margaery shrugged. “Doesn’t really matter, does it? Were you into the cuddling?”

“Yes,” said Brienne tentatively, “but it did not last very long, because he said he had a shift. So, he told me I could make myself breakfast, gave me a kiss, left his number on the counter, and then went to work.”

Sansa’s eyes went very wide. “Have you messaged him yet?”

“No!” replied Brienne, horrified. “It has only been a few hours. And anyway, I’ve got my doctor’s appointment, and then I’ve got to go to work… I didn’t want to interrupt my schedule… and I didn’t want to look like an obsessed loser virgin.”

Although Sansa seemed to disagree with that interpretation of events, Margaery took a more nuanced approach. “I get that, but you are going to have to get in contact with Jay. Maybe after work, text him saying you really enjoyed last night and would be up for seeing him again.”

“Or just do it now!” gushed Sansa, her eyes sparkling. “Why play games? Why get in the way of what could be true love?”

Brienne was still mulling on her friends’ divergent interpretations of what she should do next in terms of Jay on the bus journey to the doctor’s, and even once she had taken her seat in the surgery and was waiting to be called.

Her finger hovered over his number.

 _Should I message him?_ she wondered.

What did people say after they got drunk and slept with someone after a conference and really, really, _really_ wanted to see them again? And not just in a friends with benefits kind of way, but in an actual proper dating context? She was sure it was different for pretty Margaery and beautiful Sansa; they could have any man at their beck and call. In contrast, Brienne would have to plead.

 _He might be horrified,_ she thought darkly, _now he has taken his beer goggles off._

Luckily, her sinking into a well of self-loathing was aborted by the sound of the very bored receptionist, calling out her name for her appointment. “Brienne Tarth to Doctor Lannister’s office. Brienne Tarth to Doctor Lannister’s office.”

Getting to her feet, Brienne went in search of Doctor Lannister’s office. She was a little bit nervous; although her menstrual cycle had always been a little out of whack, she was unsure of talking about the possibility of getting on the pill with a doctor she did not know.

 _Well, now I am apparently having casual sex with Oathkeeper enthusiasts I meet at conferences, I should be more confident,_ she told herself.

When she eventually reached Doctor Lannister’s door, Brienne took a deep breath before barrelling in. Holding her head high, she was greeted by the sight of a handsome, young-ish blond doctor wearing sexy glasses, typing notes on his computer. Brienne was just about to spend some time admiring him, when he turned around and she finally recognised him as the man who had spent much of the previous night with his head between her thighs.

His eyes went wide as Brienne started babbling, trying to keep her composure. “J-J-Jay!” she eventually stammered, gulping and sweating and generally acting like a nervous wreck.

Jay got to his feet and held out a hand for her to shake, looking rather stunned as he did so. “Doctor Jaime Lannister, actually. Erm… how can I help you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! As ever, I love comments and kudos :)
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	20. A Winter Rose: Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne is the stage manager for a play of "Florian and Jonquil", while Jaime is the star...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was made up of a mixture of two asks from beesreadbooks and anonymous prompted from the Movie Quote Mash-Up. The quotes you will see in this one are therefore:
> 
> 2) "I will return. I will find you. Love you. Marry you. And live without shame.” - Atonement (2007)
> 
> 18) "Swoon. I’ll catch you.” - The English Patient (1996)
> 
> 27) "What I’m trying to say, very inarticulately, is that… um… in fact, perhaps despite appearances, I like you, very much. Just as you are.“ - Bridget Jones’s Diary (2001)
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Every year the _King’s Landing Amateur Dramatics Society_ (or KLADS) put on a different show for the disinterested public’s delectation in a rundown theatre in Flea Bottom. It was not much, but it was all they could afford, especially with dwindling audience numbers and increasing production costs. Given their limited budget, this year’s director, Catelyn Stark, had decided to forgo some of the more experimental productions KLADS had put on in recent years, in favour of an old classic; _Florian and Jonquil_. Brienne, the stage manager, had not been best pleased with this decision.

“But the production we did of _Bael the Bard_ last year was so good!” she objected at the first planning meeting. “We even got around the need to build a real Wall through physical theatre. Why wouldn’t we try something like that again?”

“Because we need to make some money,” insisted Catelyn, “and _Florian and Jonquil_ will do just that. It is an old classic that will easily bring in the punters, especially if we cast two compelling leads.”

Brienne rolled her eyes. She could barely hide her distain for the idea of putting hot actors on the poster. Yes, they were an amateur company, but they were meant to be putting on serious theatre, not tawdry rubbish like _Florian and Jonquil._

“When you say compelling, I’m sure you mean _attractive,”_ grumbled Brienne, folding her arms in her annoyance.

“Well, of course,” replied Catelyn, a little tersely, “we’ve got to get the audience in _somehow._ And what’s better than a pretty face? _”_

“And you think the best way to do that is _Florian and Jonquil_ , do you?” asked Brienne sceptically. She knew Catelyn usually had an eye for a good project and normally trusted her judgement, but this seemed too tame. Surely, KLADS should be doing something emotional and thought provoking… not a rom-com!

However, Catelyn seemed to have her mind set on _Florian and Jonquil_. “Yes, I do,” she said emphatically, “because of course, everyone adores love stories.”

Brienne gulped in an attempt to suppress a sigh. It helped her bite her objection down, even though she knew Catelyn was wrong. _Brienne_ herself did not like love stories, as she had been burnt too often. Even after ten years, Connington’s cruel words still rang around her head, dampening her desire to look for love and silencing any words she could use to chase it, and the less said about Hyle Hunt the better. Love stories just reminded Brienne how she was shut out from that world, and how much it hurt that she was never allowed that small piece of beauty in her life. Once, before Connington, she had adored _Florian and Jonquil._ Now, she would rather put on that highly inaccurate musical version of the life of the Kingslayer; _Twincest._ Yes, they would have to hire tap dancers, totally ignore the Blue Knight’s historically authenticated existence, and spend a hell of a lot of money on polystyrene bricks to create the collapse of the Red Keep, but at least they wouldn’t be celebrating _twu luv_ and could have a good laugh at the silly ending. _Anything_ was better than soppy romantic trash like _Florian and Jonquil_. Still, Brienne knew she had little choice but to agree to Catelyn’s plan. She was in charge, after all, while Brienne was just the stage manager.

Reminding herself that Catelyn was a talented director, Brienne spent the next few days slowly reconciling herself to _Florian and Jonquil._ Maybe she could make something interesting out of the lighting at the Maidenpool scene? Perhaps they could do a Steampunk theme to give the costumes an edge, rather than over the top romanticism that was usually pursued in productions like this? And maybe they could cast genuinely interesting people to play the leads, in the hope they would do something subversive with the staid old material.

All her hopes and dreams were shattered, however, when Catelyn announced she was casting Margaery Tyrell as Jonquil. Brienne thought she was pretty but… eh… did not have much else going for her. Even worse, though, was that Jaime Lannister was cast as Florian.

“He’s the best actor we’ve got,” insisted Catelyn, when Brienne came to complain about it after the first rehearsal. “He made a great Bael, so why not Florian?”

“Because we should be looking for a Florian _the Fool._ Hyle would be much more convincing in that role than bloody Jaime Lannister, because we all know he’s a bloody idiot!”

Clearly not wanting to raise the topic of Hyle Hunt, Catelyn raised an amused eyebrow at Brienne. “You know you do this every time.”

“What?”

“Oppose me casting Jaime as anything more than Messenger Number Four or an inanimate object.”

Brienne let out a derisive huff. “It’s because than man’s ego is bigger than a planet. You didn’t need to give him another starring role.”

Catelyn’s smile grew bigger. “You’re blushing.”

“It’s through annoyance,” snapped Brienne, folding her arms across her chest. She knew everyone thought she had a crush on Lannister because she blushed every time she was in his presence, but Brienne was confident that it was a _hate_ blush. “Everyone is always throwing themselves at him; he doesn’t need my little ray of sunshine.”

At that statement, Catelyn chuckled. “If you say so.”

The knowing look that Catelyn then gave Brienne made her stomach flip.

She _didn’t_ like Jaime Lannister, whatever everyone thought. In fact, she despised him.

* * *

Brienne’s reason for disliking Jaime Lannister was obvious; he always mocked her. A prominent example of this was that, several rehearsals in, he came up to her during the tea break, wearing his arrogant smile and running a hand through his golden blond hair. It was infuriating. 

“Hey, wench.”

She bit down a foulmouthed rebuke in favour of, “my name is not _wench,_ it is Brienne.”

“Okaaaay.” he said, his grin growing bigger. When Brienne was just about to walk off, he tried again. “Hey, _Brienne_.”

“What do you want?” she asked tersely, pretending to rustle some papers that were on the table in front of her.

That did not seem to deter him, however, as he put his hands either side of hers and leant forward. “I want to talk about costumes.”

“I’m not the costume designer,” she said, doing very little to hide her annoyance, “go talk to Gilly.”

He let out a huff of amused laughter. “But it is not _really_ the costumes I want to talk about.”

“Then what?” asked Brienne, looking down at her papers.

Evidently not liking that she was ignoring him, Jaime delicately lifted her chin up with two fingers, forcing her to look at him. “Catelyn said that me and Margaery are going to need to be miked up. As you are the stage manager, I thought I should come and talk to you about how that is best achieved.”

Brienne narrowed her eyes at him, her annoyance growing at the same pace as her confusion. “But you haven’t even been fitted for your costume yet!”

“I know,” said Jaime mischievously, giving her one of his boyish grins complete with the dimples, “but even so, I thought it would be beneficial if you could at least measure me up for a mike, especially if it needs to go under my shirt. It would help Gilly out.”

Brienne just scowled at him. “It doesn’t need to go under your shirt. I’ll give you a lapel mike.”

Jaime pouted. “But that is so boring, wench. Why would you give me a lapel mike when there are lots more interesting places you can stick it?”

At his slightly risqué question, Brienne blushed red. She could see Hyle Hunt giggling out of the corner of her eye and did not want to be reminded of _that_ incident by Jaime’s ridiculous teasing, so she fixed their erstwhile Florian with a stern look that could in no way be construed as friendly. “No. You will be getting a lapel mike, Mr Lannister, and that is final!”

Brienne had hoped feigned obvious disinterest would dissuade him, but Jaime continued with his irritant act all the way up until the day of the show. Whenever he was hanging around in rehearsals with nothing to do, he would bother her, asking if he could make her tea or if she wanted biscuits or if she was one hundred percent positive that she did not want to measure his chest for a microphone fitting. With every stupid question and offer that sounded like kindness, Brienne got more and more angry with him. Hyle had approached her with sweet words and gestures during the run of _Bael the Bard_ too, and it had just turned out to be a part of a bet with all the other guys playing wildlings to see who could get in Big Brienne’s pants. Brienne would not put up with it from Hyle - she had punched him for the trouble - so she would not put up with it from Jaime Lannister of all people, either.

Jaime’s stupid jokes got even worse on the day of the show itself, when he bundled into the lighting booth while she was trying to explain to Gendry the situation with the wonky spotlight. “Hey wench, can I talk to you for a second?” he asked, his green eyes bright.

“I’m talking to Gendry,” Brienne replied, perhaps a little too fiercely, as Gendry felt the need to intervene.

“Oh, don’t worry Brienne. I think we are all sorted here. Why don’t you go and speak to Jaime? The show will be starting soon anyway.”

With Jaime fixing her with an infuriating smile, Brienne found she had little choice but to agree, so let herself being led out of the lighting booth into the darkened area at the back of the stalls. “What do you want, Lannister?” she huffed. “Shouldn’t you be getting miked up?”

Jaime pulled an expression that Brienne would have described as coquettish if it came from anyone else. “You never measured me up, wench. We could go and do it now if you really…”

“Jaime, I haven’t got time for any of this ridiculousness! What do you want?”

Luckily, at that moment, Catelyn concurred as she summoned all cast members to the stage. “The audience will be here in less than fifteen minutes! Can everyone please get ready because the curtain will soon go up.”

Brienne went to turn away, but Jaime stopped her. “Wait, wench. I’ve got something for you.”

“What?” she asked, her tone a little bit snappish given the warm expression.

Folding her arms as some kind of primitive protection, Brienne dropped them in surprise when Jaime pulled out a blue winter rose from behind his back. “I smuggled it out of the bouquet I give to Jonquil in the second act. I thought you might like it for the stage manager’s office or to… to…” His words trailed off but before she could stop him, Jaime threaded the flower behind her ear and smiled at her.

Was he really trying to make her Jonquil?

“Jaime, is that you back there?” called Catelyn. “You’ve got to hurry! The audience will be here soon!”

Stunned, Brienne found herself mulling on Jaime’s intentions when she stood backstage watching him, the flower still in her hair, as _Florian and Jonquil_ began. 

“I will return,” declared Jaime, valiantly playing the part of Florian, desperately vowing he would one day be united with his maid, Jonquil. “I will find you. Love you. Marry you. And live without shame.”

As Margaery started feeding him back equally flowery lines, Brienne watched _Florian and Jonquil_ play out. All things considered, Jaime was a good actor. He could hide himself away inside and then really make the world believe he loved his Jonquil. In return, Margaery would blush prettily and say sweet words, wrapping audience in a romance that would make them laugh, cry, and weep. Meanwhile, Brienne could see the lights that bathed the stage in a warm glow and the scenery with which Catelyn had built this magical work. From her position at the side of the stage, Brienne knew it was all artificial and that it was a metaphor, somehow. _Other_ people were allowed to be enveloped in a romance, experiencing the mood lighting and the poetry. _Other_ people were allowed to have love. In contrast, Brienne was too ugly, too tall, too big, too _much,_ so she could only stand off stage while _other_ people lived out the story she wanted so badly.

 _Jaime is part of this artifice,_ she told herself. _I have to find some way to be content with the fact that I can never have him._

The worst moment of the entire play, however, was when Florian and Jonquil were reunited, Margaery threw herself into Jaime’s arms in an over-the-top embrace, her big eyes bright under the spotlight.

“Oh, my love!” she cooed. “I thought I should never see you again!”

Jaime’s face became impassioned. “And I you, my love!”

“I do not know if I can bear this sweet joy!” Margaery smiled, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead in order to portray Jonquil’s ridiculous feminine weakness. Although Margaery was doing a good job, Brienne could not help but roll her eyes.

Things were made even worse when Jaime had to deliver what Brienne thought was the most ridiculously cheesy line of the whole play. “Swoon, I’ll catch you.”

At Jaime’s instruction, Margaery did just that. Rolling her eyes back into her head, she performed the most over-the-top melodramatic faint that Brienne had seen to cheers in the audience. Brienne knew what came next. Jaime and Margaery were meant to stay frozen in tableau as the lights went down. However, something quite strange happened. Jaime lifted his eyes up from Margaery’s pale face and looked straight at Brienne, still loitering off stage.

Then he _winked._

Brienne froze. Men didn’t _wink_ at her, not unless it was part of a sick joke. And Jaime Lannister was just the type of guy to make fun of her, especially in the style of what Hyle and his stupid friends had done. Consequently, when the lights went down, Brienne turned around, pulled the flower out of her hair, and ran away before he came off the stage.

* * *

Everyone agreed that _Florian and Jonquil_ was a triumph, and Catelyn immediately invited the whole cast and crew back to her house for an after show party. “We deserve a _drink!"_ the director proclaimed backstage after the final show. "Ned has got dips, so if everyone gets there ASAP we can celebrate!”

There was a raucous cheer from everybody at that statement, while Brienne hovered at the corner of the room, just out of sight. Staying small enough, she arranged it so that no one noticed her, allowing her to retreat to the stage manager’s office. After a lifetime of avoiding parties, Brienne knew that if she lingered in this quiet room long enough, everyone would eventually forget her about her existence and head out to the party without her.

At least that was what she thought until Jaime Lannister came into the room, drunk on glory and back in his normal clothes. As he closed the door behind him, Brienne stiffened in anticipation. Ever since the bet, she was even more sensitive to perceived mockery, and she thought there was a certain glimmer in his eye that told her that he was here with just that intent.

“Hey _Brienne,_ ” Jaime said, purposefully emphasising her name as he swaggered into the room. “Do you need some help tidying up before we head out to the party?”

Not in the mood for any of his silly games, she cut him down quickly. “I’m not going,” she said sternly.

Jaime furrowed his brow. “Why not? The show was a great success, mostly due to you keeping everything in line backstage. You deserve to celebrate.”

In spite of his easy tone, Brienne let out an angry snort. “Be serious. Who would want the ugly giant there? Brienne the Beauty? I know I’m better off at home with a tub of ice cream and a crappy film.”

Throwing her rucksack over her shoulder, Brienne went to leave the room, almost visualising the slow search through her streaming catalogue. However, she found her escape impeded by Jaime, who closed his hand about his wrist in a firm but gentle grip. “Wait a second,” he said, in a tone that made her hesitant to leave.

She swallowed, trying to compose herself. It was strange to have him so near. “What do you want?”

To her surprise, when Jaime gazed at her with his intense green eyes, a shiver shot up her spine. It was _weird._ Not liking how he was making her feel, she tried to pull her hand away, but he held on tight. Eventually, Jaime put words to the confusion. “You should come,” he said, a blush rising in his cheeks.

She narrowed her eyes at him; she was not expecting that. “I told you, no one would want me there.” It hurt, but it was the truth.

“It’s not true,” replied Jaime, going even redder. It was as if he could read her mind, and now Brienne really was suspicious. Jaime Lannister looked weirdly… _vulnerable_. And it was freaking her out.

“Oh yeah?” she asked, trying to keep her tone light but failing miserably in the face of his strangely sympathetic expression. “Hyle and Ben and whoever else were all betting on who could sleep with me. I thought they were being nice… but they were only laughing at me, and so will everyone else. I know where I am not wanted.”

“You _are_ wanted,” Jaime parried, stepping forward until they were far, _far_ too close. It made Brienne feel scared. It made her feel hopeful.

“Like who?” At her question, Jaime started floundering, so it gave Brienne the courage to be cutting once more. “See, you can’t even name a single person. You can’t even…”

“Me,” he said suddenly, going as red as a tomato. “I want you there.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I…”

“I'm _not_ being ridiculous,” Jaime interjected, stepping even closer so they were almost pressed chest to chest. “I want you at the party, Jonquil. I gave you a flower, didn’t I?”

Quite against her will, Brienne started breathing very heavily at that admission. Maybe it was his ardent tone or the fact that he was so very near, but something about Jaime, standing there in the quiet room, his eyes bright, made her feel as if she was on the edge of something terrible.

“Why?” she asked, honestly baffled about what he was saying.

Jaime shrugged, before lifting his hand up and brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Because… even if you are tall and strong and a little unorthodox, you still deserve to go to a party celebrating your achievements, because you’ve put so much hard work into all this, just like everyone else has.”

Brienne went to shake her head, but the motion just meant that her cheek collided with his hand. She went to move away but, at the closeness, his touch softened and before she could stop him, Jaime was cupping her cheek.

“I’m not allowed to…” she began, a lump blooming in her throat. Ever since the whole bet incident, she had not spoken to anyone about it and had consequently felt hemmed in by her sadness. Therefore, confronted by Jaime’s warm hand on her face, Brienne felt compelled to explain that these pretty things were not for her. Not even winter roses.

“Of course you are,” he replied, skirting his thumb along her cheekbone. “You are allowed anything… _everything._ And certain people would be only too happy to give it to you if you would just let them.”

His ardent tone. His passionate expression. None of this made any sense. Why was Jaime touching her so gently and looking at her if she were precious? Lost and confused, Brienne had no option but to ask him directly. “What are you trying to say?”

Jaime exhaled nervously, and his hot breath warmed her face. “What I’m trying to say, very inarticulately, is that… um… in fact, perhaps despite appearances, I like you, very much. Just as you are. And… if you just want to go to the party, get pissed, and show those fuckers that you are stronger than any mud they are going to throw at you, you are welcome to do it with me hanging off your arm.”

Brienne blinked. And blinked. And blinked again.

Hope swelled.

And then she remembered. This wasn’t a romance. This was a joke.

“I don’t need you making fun of me like everyone else has,” she said angrily, pushing his hand from her face and stepping away. “So, if you don’t mind, I am going home. I suppose I will see you when Catelyn casts you as the lead in the next play.”

Brienne had experienced many strange things in her life, but that Jaime Lannister looked bewildered and a little hurt as she swept from the room, was definitely the strangest of all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that! As ever, please consider leaving comments and kudos :)
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	21. Besieged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime arrives at Winterfell...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was a prompt from resthefuture for the 50 types of kisses writing prompt. The exact ask was:
> 
> 11\. Morning kisses that are exchanged before either person opens their eyes, kissing blindly until their lips meet in a blissful encounter.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Although Winterfell had been under siege by the army of the dead for a good two weeks, it was not the literal military engagement outside the gates that was making Brienne feel as if she were being besieged from all sides.

It was Jaime.

When he had first arrived at the Stark’s castle, pledging his sword and the Lannister army, Brienne had not expected anything from him. That was how their relationship worked, after all; they never spoke, they just _did._ At most, she anticipated a nod of recognition and an offer to spar with him in the Winterfell courtyard. It would make sense to be prepared in the face of the most terrifying army the world had ever seen and he could trust that she would train him well. That was all that he would need her for.

 _And it is not like he would ever want me,_ she thought sadly. _That would be too much._

Yet, Jaime did not do what Brienne expected. After his men had been settled into their lodgings, he had come in search of her, and found her in her chamber, polishing Oathkeeper. His arrival had been a shock, so she nearly dropped the priceless sword in surprise.

“Ser Jaime,” she said after he had shut the door behind him and abandoned his cloak on a nearby chair. Even in the dull evening light, Brienne found it difficult to look at him. Although Jaime was in his dirty travel clothes, he was still beautiful, what with his golden hair streaked with silver and devastating green eyes. Consequently, Brienne lost her nerve and dropped her gaze back towards her sword, not wanting to be burned by his stare.

He let out a snort of unexpected laughter. “Is that how it is going to be between us, wench?” he asked, his voice light. “You not looking at me?”

“My name is not wench,” Brienne retorted angrily, standing up in anticipation of a fight. They were about to face the end of the world. Did he really have to mock her? However, when Brienne looked at him, Jaime’s expression was soft. Dreamy.

“Wh-wh-why are you looking at me like that?” she stammered, the answer seeming impossible.

In standing up, Brienne had put Oathkeeper on the bed beside her, allowing her hands to fall free to her sides. Jaime had seemingly noticed too, as his hand brushed against hers, making her realise how close he was.

“Brienne,” he breathed, emphasising her name. “I thought you understood… the last time we saw each other. I thought you knew…”

A red tent in the Riverlands. Unsaid things. His eyes.

She _had_ understood, but she did not dare believe.

“Jaime, I…”

And then he kissed her. Passionate. Too much. So hard it almost hurt. Jaime kissed her and then, quite strangely, he had not stopped kissing her even as she melted against him, like a genuine damsel. Powerless to resist, Brienne let his kisses trail away from her lips; to her face, her cheeks, her neck, her breasts, between her thighs. He kissed her in places that made her ache. Even when he had her moaning with desire, Brienne had never thought such beautiful things could be for her, and yet it had not ended with sweet kisses. There had also been burning words, intimate touches, and love making.

Endless, erotic love making.

Swept away by the bliss of it all, Brienne had fallen asleep, satiated and feeling incredibly safe with his weight on top of her, all over her, covering her. It was almost too good to be true.

_It cannot be true, can it?_

Wandering in the strange hinterland between being asleep and awake, Brienne felt the press of a kiss against her cheek, her eyelids, her nose, her lips. It had been such a beautiful dream. Jaime was hers and she was his, forever. They had united their bodies, and it was only a matter of time before they could be together properly. Man and wife.

Opening her eyes, Brienne expected to see nothing but an empty space beside her. Jaime Lannister could not have really come to her after all this time, could he? Therefore, she almost let out a little gasp when she was reminded that the impossible had actually happened. Jaime’s face was inches from her, his green eyes bright.

And he wanted to be here.

Before she could vocalise her joy, Jaime pressed his lips to hers, kissing her with all the tenderness she had long been denied. It was euphoric. When Jaime pulled away, Brienne let out an upset little huff. Drawing him in for another kiss, then another, then another, Brienne rained her affection down on his face until Jaime was laughing. When she opened her eyes, she could barely contain her delight at how happy he looked.

“Marry me, wench,” Jaime whispered, his words a caress. “Marry me.”

She knew no other way of answering than silencing him with a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed it, please leave a comment or kudos :)
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	22. Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Jaime arrives at Winterfell, Brienne finds she cannot sleep...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gods, I know I am late on replying to my comments for other fics, but I hope this makes up for it! This was a prompt by moirindeclermont on tumblr from the 50 Types of Kisses prompt list. She asked for number 19, which is:
> 
> "One person stopping a kiss to ask “Do you want to do this?”, only to have the other person answer with a deeper, more passionate kiss."
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Sleep.

That was all that Brienne wanted. To be able to curl up tight in her bed, close her eyes, let her body relax, and be washed away into a peaceful slumber. After all, it was only right, as she had spent all day hauling wood, training men, and outlining strategy in preparation for the siege of Winterfell. Therefore, all she wanted was a few moments of deep, deep sleep…

Yet, despite her best efforts, she couldn’t get there, mainly because she could sense him on the other side of the wall, sleeping soundly, while she remained restless and agitated.

 _Jaime Lannister,_ she wondered. _How did we get here?_

Ever since Brienne had stood up and defended his honour in front of the Dragon Queen, Jaime Lannister had kept his distance. Instead of approaching her, Jaime had thrown himself into working doubly hard than any other man in the castle to help getting Winterfell’s defences prepared for a long siege. Given his past, he needed to prove tenfold that he was worthy of the Northerner’s trust, and Brienne thought he was doing an admirable job in trying to show them he was here for noble reasons.

 _It’s only right,_ thought Brienne. _He has to do his duty and… he does not owe me anything._

_I would stand in front of the Dragon Queen to protect his honour a thousand times._

Even so, she could not help imagining what he must be doing. In a cruel twist, Ser Jaime had been lodged in the next room by Lady Sansa, and Brienne often heard him going about his business; him singing few notes of a tuneless melody, an expletive as he stubbed his toe, and the heavy creak of his bed when he lay down upon it at night.

That last noise was perhaps the most torturous sound of all, as it inevitably led to Brienne’s daydreams running wild. The curls of his hair running out across his pillow… his beautiful eyes fluttering closed… his good hand curled protectively around the bad… his night shift riding up as he moved in his sleep… his strong thighs and tapered calves… the hard plains of his stomach… the trail of golden hair that led inevitably down to…

 _No,_ she told herself. _I will not go there._

Yet still she could not sleep.

As her insomnia plagued her, the moon rose higher in the sky, until Brienne wondered if it would be better to not even _try_ to sleep. Perhaps she could polish Oathkeeper instead? Or darn some holes in her clothes? Or maybe even go over that military strategy book Samwell Tarly had lent her one more time? Anything would surely be better than just laying here, unable to sleep and frustrated by thoughts of…

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

Brienne sat up sharply. Even though it was the middle of the night, someone had just knocked at her door. There was no urgency to it, so Brienne did not automatically assume that something terrible had just befallen the castle. Instead, it sounded like a patient request.

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

Tentatively getting to her feet, Brienne pulled her shift down over her knees nervously, faintly worried about who might be on the other side of the door. However, wanting to appear brave, Brienne put steel in her spine as she answered her midnight caller.

“What are you doing here?” she stammered, as Jaime pushed the door wider and barged into her room, wearing nothing but a pair of dark breeches. In spite of her desire to appear impassive, the sight made her blush. Once she had shut the door behind him, Brienne turned to look at him, surprised that he had not offered an explanation as to why he had felt he had to visit her so late at night, so she asked him again.

“What are you doing here?”

Perhaps it was the soft look in his eye, or the way he was drawing nearer with every word, but there was something about Jaime that made Brienne pose her question more gently and with greater care than she had the first time. Given that he did not answer her for a _second_ time, however, she made to question him again, but found she was silenced when he came to a halt in front of her. As her breath caught in her throat, Jaime lifted a hand to her face. Without saying a word, he brushed the back of his fingers against Brienne’s cheek, before moving his hand with the utmost care to her chin. Once in position, he swiped his thumb across her bottom lip. His gaze grazed her skin. If Brienne was an inexperienced virgin, she did not remember it at that moment, as quite unconsciously, her tongue darted forward to meet the pad of his thumb. At the sudden reciprocated contact, Jaime’s eyes went very wide and then before Brienne quite knew what was happening, she had drawn half of his thumb into her mouth and was sucking it gently, just as she lifted her left hand so she could stroke the inside of his wrist. Circle after circle. 

That all this was happening was almost too much for Brienne, so she closed her eyes and allowed herself to just cherish the sensation of having Jaime here, close and warm, hot and wanting.

_Jaime…_

Brienne only opened her eyes when he suddenly withdrew his hand, leaving her rational thoughts to come charging back into sharp focus. What had she been thinking? Jaime wasn’t hers to have and kiss and…

_Oh._

All anxious thoughts vanished from her mind the minute she felt his lips press against hers, however. For a second, Brienne froze. Over the years, men had only been too willing to try and take things from her; in Renly’s camp, there had been one night when she had decided not to sleep in her armour and was repaid for that innocence by a drunken man attempting to get into her breeches. It therefore took a few seconds for her to realise that Jaime was not trying to steal anything from her, or debase her, or ridicule her; their kiss was a shared pleasure.

Perhaps sensing her trepidation, Jaime drew back. “Do you want to do this?” he asked, so quietly that she could hardly hear him. In the pale moonlight, he looked so innocent, so concerned, that she thought it was about time that she remembered that she was his commanding officer.

So, just as he had approached her - wordless, silent, and entirely in gesture - Brienne answered with her body. Burying her fingers in his golden locks, Brienne pulled his face towards hers and smashed their lips together once more. In his surprise, Jaime’s mouth dropped open, and it allowed Brienne to slip her tongue between his teeth. The sudden intimacy made him moan.

 _Yes Jaime,_ she thought firmly. _I do want to do this._

_I don’t remember a time when I didn’t want to do this._

_So please… don’t stop._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! As ever, I would love to hear what you think in a comment or kudos!
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	23. Two Night Stand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime reels from Brienne turning up at his doctor's surgery...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, anonymous on tumblr prompted me to continue "One Night Stand" which is chapter 18 of this collection. I hope you enjoy!

Ring. Ring. Ring.

 _Come on Tyrion, pick up,_ thought Jaime nervously as he hid out in the supply cupboard attached to his office. _I need to bloody talk to someone, so can you just answer the phone?_

Ring. Ring. Ring.

_Come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on._

Ring. Ring. Ring.

_Actually, maybe I shouldn’t call him. This is a bad–_

“Yo, brother,” said Tyrion sarcastically. “What’s up? I thought you were usually at work by now?”

Jaime let out a sigh; in spite of his great misgivings about telling Tyrion what had happened, he now had to go ahead with it. “Yeah… I am at work… I just needed to talk…”

“About what?” replied Tyrion, and Jaime could almost hear the way he was arching his eyebrow. “I’ve got a meeting in ten, so I don’t have…”

“Last night. I slept with someone.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line so loud that Jaime was nearly deafened.

“Shae,” came Tyrion’s voice suddenly. “Cancel my meeting and tell Bronn I might be late to brunch.”

“Tyrion, you don’t have to do that…” said Jaime meekly, not wanting to turn this into a bigger deal than it already was.

However, Tyrion seemed to disagree.

“Yes I do,” announced Tyrion firmly. Jaime could almost hear his smile. “This is the first woman you’ve slept with in two years ever since you dumped Cersei - which you really needed to do, by the way, because she was a cow and… hang on. It was a woman you slept with, wasn’t it?”

Jaime furrowed his brow. “Yes.”

“Cool. Not that I would have a problem if it _wasn’t,_ it’s just it has been so long that your tastes may have totally changed in that time and…”

Annoyed of his brother’s babbling, Jaime let out a little huff. “Tyrion, can you just listen? I need your help.”

“Why?” asked Tyrion confusedly. “You had sex, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but…”

“But what?” replied Tyrion, clearly a little agitated.

“It was more than sex to me,” began Jaime slowly, trying to make his man whore of a brother understand that, unlike him, Jaime could not just stick his dick in anything warm without feeling a little disgusted with himself. “I want to see her again and… I just haven’t done this in such a long time.”

“Have you given her your number?”

“Yes,” replied Jaime. “I did before I left hers this morning.”

“Then what are you worrying about? She’ll call you.”

Jaime was not so sure about that. Although Brie had trusted him with so much the night before - her body, her comfort, her _virginity_ \- Jaime thought she would have no real reason to call him. However, when Jaime told Tyrion that, his brother just scoffed.

“Come on Jaime, have you seen you?”

Jaime furrowed his brow. He did not know what Tyrion meant and he said as much.

“It means,” said Tyrion exasperatedly, “that you are hot, so even if you had the personality of a plank of wood, Brie would come back for a second date so… _chill out._ She will call.”

“Do you think?” asked Jaime hopefully.

“I know,” replied Tyrion, “so just calm down and get on with your work.”

“Okay, Tyrion. Okay.”

After that, Jaime did try to do what Tyrion had advised and just relax. It was very difficult, however. Once back in his office, Jaime had lots of patients to deal with and, although he tried to care about their colds and their sprained ankles and their persistent stomach aches, all he could really think of was the blonde Amazon who had made him feel wanted for the first time in his life. He was still musing on her while waiting for his next patient, an unfamiliar woman called Brienne Tarth, so tried to distract himself by filling out patient forms on his computer.

 _I should have asked for her number,_ thought Jaime, kicking himself, _then I wouldn’t have to wait for her to call. I could do it myself, directly. I could…_

He was pulled out of his reverie by the sound of his office door opening behind him, so swivelled around to look at the person who had just entered the room.

And promptly nearly fell of his chair.

“J-J-Jay!” stammered Brie, her beautiful blue eyes wide as she stared at him incredulously. Today, she was wearing a band t-shirt and a pair of jeans, but looked no less attractive for it, given that she still loomed over him like a goddess that deserved to be worshipped.

Scrabbling to his feet, Jaime held out his hand in a way that he hoped seemed professional and not creepy. “Doctor Jaime Lannister, actually,” he managed to splutter, holding onto his job title as a rather crappy line of defence. “Erm… how can I help you?”

At his rather innocuous question, Brienne ignored his outstretched hand and started worrying at her lip, in a way that betrayed her nervousness but also made her look immensely adorable. “I am here to see you about the… err… about the possibility of… erm…”

“What?”

She took a deep breath before finishing her sentence. “GOING ON THE PILL.”

Jaime blinked, taking a couple of moments to fully compute what she had just shouted at him. “Oh…” he eventually said, trying to stop himself from babbling. “Are you Brienne Tarth, my next patient?”

“Yes,” she squeaked, furrowing her brow and looking slightly befuddled. “Why else would I be here?”

 _Maybe I thought you wanted to see me again,_ thought Jaime, before remembering he had not had sex in two years and was probably a terrible, _terrible_ lay. Brie had likely only taken his number out of pity, and not because she actually…

Shaking his head, Jaime tried to push away his negative thoughts. “Yes… you are right. Um… but… considering what happened between us, I am not actually allowed to help you with your problem, because that would be meddling with the… um… Hippocratic Oath or something…”

“Oh,” she responded, looking a little downcast. At the sight, a knot twisted in Jaime’s belly; he wanted to wipe Brienne’s frown away. “Does that mean I will have to book another appointment with someone else? Because my work hours are difficult and I…”

“No! No! No!” Jaime interrupted, a little too enthusiastically. “I am sure I can get you in with one of my colleagues right now, so this all wouldn’t have been a waste of time for you.”

At his offer, Brienne smiled at him, coy and shy. “Okay. Thank you. That would be a great help.”

Once he had her agreement, Jaime directed her out of the room and down the corridor, along to the office of his colleague Doctor Catelyn Stark. Crossing his fingers behind his back, Jaime hoped she would be free to talk to Brienne. After all, Brienne had come all the way down here and he did not want to be a disappointment to her, even though she had not messaged him back yet.

As expected, Catelyn answered her door the second Jaime finished knocking, her expression cool and calm. “Yes, Doctor Lannister. How can I help you?”

Shooting a quick look at Brienne - who had gone the colour of a cherry tomato - Jaime tried to reply with a professional disinterest. “Doctor Stark, I was wondering if you had a spare fifteen minutes to take my appointment with this patient… err… Brienne Tarth… off my hands.”

“Why?” asked Catelyn, raising an intrigued eyebrow at him. “Isn’t she _your_ patient?”

“Yes,” conceded Jaime, taking a step forward so no one outside of Catelyn and Brienne could hear what he was saying, “but Ms Tarth wished to talk about her… um… _reproductive choices_ and it wouldn’t be proper of me.”

“Why not? You are a doctor, aren’t you?” inquired Catelyn, clearly not getting what Jaime was trying to say.

“Yes, but I _know_ Brienne,” said Jaime, trying to say what needed to be said without actually _saying_ what needed to be said. “I’ve known her since yesterday.”

Unfortunately, Catelyn continued to wilfully misunderstand. “Yes, but I act as doctor for lots of people I know. There’s nothing especially weird about that.”

“Yes, I know but…” began Jaime, desperately trying to make Catelyn see. However, he found himself silenced by Brienne, who brought her hand up as a way to inject herself into the conversation beyond her current role of a prize cow being haggled over at a farming fair.

“I think what Jaime is trying to say is that it would be better if I had this appointment with you because… because…” She trailed off for a moment before she found her strength once more. “ _He_ is the reason I need to be reconsidering my reproductive choices.”

Although Catelyn let out a little chuckle of amusement, Jaime barely had time to feel embarrassed about it, as he snapped his head around to look at Brienne. “You are considering going on the pill for me?”

“Yes,” she said meekly, betraying how monstrously embarrassed she felt. “I know it was only one night, but I was going to call you later today… and I thought we might talk about the possibility of…”

Amazed and excited that Brienne wanted to see him again, Jaime reached out and took her hand. “That sounds great,” Jaime babbled, even though he was trying to sound cool. “Maybe we could go out for dinner tonight and _talk_ about things…”

“That would be great,” replied Brienne, blushing and smiling and glowing in a way that made Jaime feel quite warm inside.

_Who knew I could fall so fast?_

“Wonderful,” Jaime grinned, like a teenage boy who had successfully asked a girl to prom. “Message me where you want to go, and I’ll be there.”

Brienne’s blush lit up her face, so beautiful that Jaime wanted to sing. It made him quite forget that Catelyn Stark was still standing there, chuckling to herself. “Okay, I will take Ms Tarth off your hands, Doctor Lannister. Although you owe me!”

"Of course, Catelyn, ” sighed Jaime, smiling happily at Brienne as Doctor Stark shepherded her into her office while trying to suppress her laughter.

Jaime barely cared though. Brienne wanted to go out with him again and _talk_ about stuff. Yes, perhaps it would all still go wrong, perhaps he would stick his foot in his mouth over dinner, but at least she was giving him a chance.

And a chance was all he wanted.

Eight hours later, Jaime realised he had truly been worrying over nothing. Brienne had messaged him that afternoon telling him she had a table at a Pentoshi restaurant over by the riverside booked for 7:30. Dressed in his best smart-casual jeans and shirt, Jaime had made sure he was five minutes early, and then spent the rest of the evening having a proper date with someone he really liked. Considering everything that had happened in the past with Cersei, it was liberating.

And then, to top it all off, after dinner and drinks, Brienne had invited him back to his place. This time, there was no perfunctory flirting or polite conversation. Instead, she launched herself at him and kissed him madly, until he had no choice but to collapse onto the couch beneath her. From there, it was caressing, kissing, and touching, before he finally returned to having his head between her thighs once more, just where he wanted to be.

All things considered, it was a very good Two Night Stand, which turned into a third… then a fourth… then officially dating… then a committed relationship… then marriage, three children, and a dog.

Jaime was very happy he had gone to that conference, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! As ever, I would love to hear from you in the form of comments or kudos :)
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	24. A Winter Rose: Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After rejecting him in the dressing room, Brienne stews on her relationship with Jaime...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Thanks for reading this! I have had terrible writer's block for the last couple of days, so I wrote this to inspire myself to get back on it. It is a follow up to Chapter 19 of this anthology "A Winter Rose: Part I". 
> 
> I wrote it as a response to a prompt from the Movie Quote Mash Up, and the two quotes I had to include were numbers 21 and 30 which were:
> 
> 21\. "You only have to forgive once. To resent, you have to do it all day, every day.“ - The Light Between Oceans (2016)
> 
> 30\. "The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.” - Moulin Rouge! (2001)
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

In the end, Jaime went to Catelyn's drinks party and Brienne went home, replaying every interaction she had ever had with him over and over in her head; the cheeky way he had asked her to measure him up for a microphone, how he had brought her a blue winter rose and threaded it behind her ear, and how she had accused him of making fun of her when he told her he liked her, storming out of the dressing room in the process.

He was making fun of me, Brienne told herself, as she remembered how he had winked at her from on stage while Margaery Tyrell had swooned in his arms. How could he honestly want me when the type of women who are cast as his love interests look as if they should be high end models? It is ridiculous!

However, over the days and weeks that followed, Brienne started to think that Jaime Lannister might in fact be a little bit hurt by how abruptly she had dismissed him when she had last seen him. Although KLADS had only performed the last production of Florian and Jonquil recently, Catelyn wanted to get on casting for the next show - Brave Danny Flint - as quickly as possible.

"I thought you would be pleased," the director smiled when she told Brienne about her choice of production. "It's dark, mysterious and is just the thing to pull in the arty crowd."

"But it is so... depressing," said Brienne, as she tried to describe what exactly she felt about the new play. "At least Florian and Jonquil was light-hearted."

"But you hated Florian and Jonquil."

Brienne shrugged. "It wasn't that bad... in the end."

The reason for that was that Jaime had succeeded in bringing pathos to the role of Florian, which Brienne thought - on page - was about as shallow as a puddle. In reading between the lines, Jaime had imbued Florian with a noble strength, a bruised vulnerability, and world-weary...

Oh hells, Brienne thought. Why can't I stop thinking about him?

It wasn't as if she had seen him since she had pushed him away on the night of the after show party. In fact, Brienne only saw Jaime Lannister again at the first rehearsals for Brave Danny Flint. Although he had made a fabulous Florian, this time he had been cast as one of the evil brothers of the Night's Watch who destroyed the eponymous hero. Brienne could not help but think he had been horribly miscast, what with those lovely soft green eyes of his. Who could believe he was a villain?

At the first read through, Brienne spotted him the instant he arrived from her position at the script desk. Even though he was dressed in a casual pair of jeans and a red t-shirt, Brienne could not help but think he looked as if he belonged at a movie premiere, what with his bright eyes and sharp jaw. He also seemed to be adopting the cool persona of a celebrity in front of the paparazzi's cameras as, in normal times, Jaime would bound up to her and say hello. Now, all Brienne got was silence. In fact, he only came to talk to her when he had to; that is, when he arrived at the desk to collect his script. Brienne could not help but give him a nervous smile.

"Hello, Jaime," she said quietly, her voice barely a squeak. "How have you been?"

He didn't even look at her. "Can I have my script?" he mumbled, pulling at his belt as he pretended to straighten his jeans.

"Of course," she said, complying quickly. She did not want to beg for his attention.

Yet, even so, she couldn't stop thinking about him. Brienne wanted to apologise, but she didn't know how. Jaime Lannister was gorgeous, talented, and totally out of Brienne's league. He didn't need her to apologise; it wasn't as if she was important to him or anything... but she wanted to.

She just didn't have the words.

As the rehearsals went on, Brienne only found a few opportunities to talk to Jaime, and none of them were particularly fitting for a grand, sweeping apology. The first was when she decided to adopt his bold-as-brass strategy and went to talk to him about his microphone.

"Jaime," she said casually, when she had caught him on a rare moment alone backstage, as if she had not been planning on how to approach him for weeks. "Can I have a word?"

His cheeks stained pink, he shrugged. "Sure. What do you want?"

"Iwasjustwonderingifyouwantedmetomeasureyouupforamicrophoneincaseyourcostumerequiresustoputitunderyourshirt."

Jaime blinked a few times, confused. "What?"

"I said," Brienne began, trying to control her breathing, "I was just wondering if you wanted me to measure you up for a microphone in case your costume requires us to put it under your shirt."

If the effort it had taken Brienne to get the words out had almost winded her, then Jaime's response stole the breath right out of her lungs. "Don't bother. I'll get Gilly to do it," he said, still not looking her in the eye, before stalking away.

Blushing furiously in shame, Brienne only noticed that Catelyn was standing a few feet away from her when she felt then burn of her eyes on her skin. Looking up at the director, Brienne tried to straighten herself up. "I'm just going to... erm..."

"Why don't you go and discuss with Sam ordering in some winter roses?" Catelyn suggested gently, clearly sensing that something had just happened. "We need them for the set."

Brienne complied without another word.

The next time the unhappy pair spoke was after a late rehearsal that had only involved Catelyn, Brienne, Jaime, and the production's Danny Flint, Margaery Tyrell. The group of them were having to choreograph a violent sexual assault; one that Brienne thought was distasteful and far, far too much. Jaime seemed uncomfortable even to simulate it and, although Margaery headed off home in a cheerful mood, Jaime was under a dark cloud. As Brienne was worried about him, she made sure to stop him just before he left. Gently holding him by the wrist, she found herself properly looking into his soft green eyes for the first time since she had stormed out the dressing room. It made her stutter.

"J-J-J-Jaime."

"What?" he replied, all softness removed from his voice.

Brienne swallowed before trying again. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Jaime said sullenly, averting his gaze. "Why?"

"It's just you look as if... I was wondering... well... maybe you could do with a drink... and so could I... if I'm honest..."

When he looked back up at her, Jaime's expression was steely. "Maybe I could do with a drink, wench, but I have a cabinet full of whisky at home. I don't need company to drink it. Goodnight." Before Brienne could say anything else, Jaime turned on his heel and made for the door, leaving her alone in the small rehearsal space with Catelyn.

Shit, she thought as she paced back across the room in search of her bag. Why am I so bad at this?

"Trouble in paradise between you and Jaime?" asked Catelyn, interrupting Brienne's thoughts with her intrusive question.

It made Brienne blush. "Jaime and I are not in paradise."

"No? You've just been dancing around each other for ages, then?"

That made her go an even darker red. "No, we're just..."

"What?"

And then before Brienne could stop herself, it all came spilling out. Years of Jaime's playful teasing that she had always construed as taunting. How Jaime had a cute smile. The bet. Her lack of love life. How Jaime was the hottest man she had ever seen. His joke about the microphone. Jaime's eyes. The blue winter rose. His confession before the after party. Her refusal and the fact she now could not get Jaime to talk to her, and that she did not know what to do.

"Huh," said Catelyn sagely once Brienne got to the end of her tale. "It sounds to me as if you are resentful towards him."

"I'm not resentful towards him," proclaimed Brienne, even though she knew it was a complete a lie.

Catelyn smiled, crinkles touching the corners of her eyes. "You aren't?"

"No!" she insisted, before caving under Catelyn's knowing gaze. "I mean... maybe... a little... I don't know. He's handsome. That stupid handsome that all the men who have ever made fun of me have been. And he has women like Margaery Tyrell fawning all over him all the time. Surely, he can't really want me... this has to be a joke. How could he care for me when he is him and I am me?"

Searching for a genuine answer to her question, Brienne was surprised when Catelyn let out a little chuckle.

"What?"

"I think you are blaming Jaime for things that other people have done to you. He was never part of that bet. He has not been making you feel bad about yourself; other people have, and you've been putting that all on him."

Deep down, Brienne knew Catelyn was right, and it made her chest tighten. "But how do I stop doing that?" she asked, looking at Catelyn as if she were a wise old prophet on a hill. "How can I see him for him without all my baggage?"

"Forgive and forget," said Catelyn simply.

Brienne stared at her as if she had gone mad. "But there's nothing he's done wrong."

"I'm not talking about Jaime," said Catelyn, giving Brienne a motherly smile. "I am talking about those man children who made a cruel bet on who would get to sleep with you."

At the mention of the bet, Brienne's cheeks flushed with both anger and embarrassment. "I don't want to forgive them. They don't deserve it."

"No, they don't," agreed Catelyn, "but you do. You only have to forgive once. To resent, you have to do it all day, every day. And currently, from where I am sitting, you are holding onto that resentment and it is making things difficult for you now. Let go of it, and it will give you a chance of working things out with our very own Florian the Fool... because he has been a fool for you, right from the start."

That Catelyn had noticed something was going on between herself and Jaime meant that Brienne must have been monstrously oblivious to his attempt to charm her for ages. Had he been flirting with her for years and had she just refused to see it?

Laughing to herself, Brienne smiled at Catelyn, grateful for the pep talk. "Any other advice, love guru?"

Catelyn thought about it for a moment, before saying, "the greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return."

Brienne narrowed her eyes at Catelyn in amusement. "Isn't that a song?"

"Who knows," laughed Catelyn, pulling her rucksack on over her shoulder, "but it is good advice anyway. Don't let your fears hold you back. If you want Jaime, go get him."

* * *

The last chance Brienne had to speak to Jaime was on the first night of Brave Danny Flint, and she was not going to waste her opportunity. Picking a blue winter rose from the pile that Sam had ordered for the set, Brienne headed to Jaime's private dressing room in order to talk it out. When she arrived, Brienne discovered that Jaime was half-dressed in his Night's Watch gear, with everything but his cloak and his sword on. As he looked like a lost prince from a fairy tale, Brienne could not help but smile.

"Jaime."

At the sound of her voice, Jaime span around to look at her, confusion on his face. "What are you doing here, wench?"

Discovering his gaze to be excoriating, Brienne dropped her eyes to the rose, finding comfort in its simple prettiness instead of the complicated majesty she saw every time she looked at Jaime. "I wanted to... I wanted to... wish you good luck."

Jaime let out a bitter laugh. "Is that all?"

"No," Brienne replied quickly, looking up at him imploringly. "I also wanted to say sorry."

That seemed to confuse him more than anything.

"Why?"

"Because I am sorry," Brienne began, trying to find the words. "After Florian and Jonquil, I was horrible to you when you were only trying to be kind..."

Resting his hands on his hips, Jaime rolled his eyes. "I wasn't trying to be kind, wench. I was trying to tell you that I like you, because I thought you were an awesome person and who has nothing to worry about in terms of attracting people. I was already attracted, for one."

Her heart fell at his words. "All in the past tense?"

"What do you mean?" asked Jaime, narrowing his eyes at her.

"You thought I was an amazing person. You were attracted to me. They're all in the past tense and I..." Brienne's words stalled, but she eventually found the courage to continue by forcing them out in a big rush. "I know I've been a shit to you, but that's because I'm attracted to you too and don't know how to cope with it. I'm just scared because you are so out of my league that..."

Whatever Brienne was going to say - about her terrible self-esteem, the stupid bet, or Jaime's absurd beauty - never got voiced, as Jaime swallowed her words when he kissed her. With her breath stolen, Brienne had to struggle for a few moments to keep herself afloat as he brought his hands up to her face and began to suck at her bottom lip, as if she were a sweet peach. It was just so good; awkward, yes and a little out of rhythm, but so so good.

When they broke apart, Jaime's face was flushed but he was wearing that cocksure smile of his that Brienne had been missing something rotten. As he continued to grin at her - dazed, baffled, happy - Brienne lifted her hand so she could tuck the blue winter rose behind his ear. He really made a better maid from a song than she did.

"Jonquil deserves her rose," smiled Brienne, overjoyed that for the first time in months (or perhaps ever) there was not that coldness and distance between them that they had both used as a cover for their feelings.

Jaime let out an amused chuckle. "Oh, I'm Jonquil, am I?"

"Of course," grinned Brienne, laughing in turn. "You look such a pretty young maid with that flower in your hair."

At that, Jaime wrapped his arms around her and pulled Brienne close. It was so beautiful, warm, and wonderfully pleasant that she did not know why she hadn't given into it before. Eventually, however, she had to pull away, and Brienne only soothed his objecting pout with some reassuring words.

"Go break a leg out there," she said gently. "I know you'll be awesome."

Brienne could not help but wonder at how beautifully Jaime Lannister blushed. "Oh, I will, as long as you come to the after show party."

"Deal," she agreed, before sealing it with a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please consider leaving comments and kudos!
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	25. Drunk Dialled: Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne gets a late night phone call from a very drunk Jaime...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I am procrastinating like nobody's business in updating my fics, I hope you enjoy this. The prompt was by inksanddaisies for the Movie Quote Mash-Up and she requested numbers 11 and 19, which were:
> 
> 11\. "I’d rather die tomorrow than live a hundred years without knowing you.“ - Pocahontas (1995)
> 
> 19\. "So it’s not gonna be easy. It’s gonna be really hard. We’re gonna have to work at this every day, but I want to do that because I want you. I want all of you, forever, you and me, every day.“ - The Notebook (2004)
> 
> I hope you like this one!

Brienne had just started to doze off when her phone rang. 

Letting out an indignant huff, she rolled over to see who it was. The moment she made out the letters of her best friend's name, she switched her bedside light on, her heart leaping in her chest.

_Jaime._

Unplugging her phone from the charge and then picking it up, Brienne sat up and straightened her scruffy old band t-shirt that she used in lieu of pyjamas. It wasn't as if Jaime would be able to see her when she answered his call, but she wanted to look presentable for him anyway. It would make her feel less inadequate in the face of his wonderfulness. She took a deep breath before pressing the _Accept Call_ button, needing to steel herself before hearing his voice.

"Hey."

"Hey wench," Jaime slurred, so warmly that she could almost hear him smiling. "How are yooooooou?"

She let out a little chuckle at his ridiculousness. "Fine, but you sound smashed."

At that statement, Jaime started giggling like a child, and his laughter made Brienne's heart lift. With him and her, it was like magic. Jaime could make her smile in a way no one else could. Brienne supposed that this was what being in love did for you.

"I am a _little_ smashed," Jaime conceded, before he started guffawing again.

Even though a minute ago she had been on the precipice of sleep, at the sound of his voice, Brienne was wide awake, prepared to stay up all night talking. "Then why are you calling me?" she asked, laughter buried under her words. "Shouldn't you be getting even more smashed with Tyrion and the boys? It's Tyrion's stag do; surely you owe them shots."

"Oh my god," said Jaime in faux shock, before letting out an over-dramatic gasp.

"What?" asked Brienne, trying and failing not to laugh down the phone in anticipation of what he was going to say. Jaime always held her in the palm of his hand.

"Did Brienne Tarth, the noble _Brienne Tarth_ just advise me to drink shots?"

An ugly chuckle erupted from her mouth, which she was only able to suppress by thinking how much Jaime would not want her braying in his ear. "I might not be the world expert on stag parties, but I do think you are _meant_ to be drinking."

"You are so right, wench," slurred Jaime, his voice sounding especially warm and tender on his nickname for her. "Why are you so smart?"

Not good at taking compliments (especially from Jaime Lannister of all people) Brienne shook her head and tried a self-deprecating joke. "I'm not smart. It's just you are at a distance from me, so you've forgotten how stupid I normally am."

Jaime let out a disgusted scoff at that statement. "You're not stupid. You are smart, and kind, and sweet, and patient, and generous, and beautiful, and you make me so happy that I'd rather die tomorrow than live a hundred years without knowing you."

If she wasn't Brienne Tarth and he Jaime Lannister, she might have found that assertion romantic. However, Brienne was wise enough to know that it was only the tequila shots talking and not _him_ , so she would not even let herself hope. Therefore, she laughed it off. "Now I know you really _are_ drunk."

"I like being drunk," Jaime said as a strange countermove.

Brienne wrinkled her brow. "Why?"

He paused for a moment, making Brienne wonder if he was weighing up his words. "Because it makes me brave enough to say things that I wouldn't normally say."

"Like what?" she asked, intrigued.

If Brienne thought Jaime was going to tell her some long kept childhood secret, or finally admit that it _was_ him who had accidentally dented the front of her Ford Mondeo when he was parking his flashy sports car, she was in for a surprise, as he said, "I love you, wench."

"I love you too, Jaime," she said quickly in response, trying to remind herself that having his affection as a friend was more than enough, better than she could have ever hoped for. "You are my best friend."

At the other end of the line, Jaime let out an exasperated huff. "No, you are not... I'm trying to say that I _love_ you, because I really do love you... you're just really lovable with your eyes and your stubbornness and your thighs... Do you have freckles on your thighs? I love you like... not as a friend, but as a... I don't know... like, when I see you... my heart has a boner. I love you that much."

Confused, Brienne let out a hesitant giggle. "You and your metaphors, Jaime. That might be the worst one yet."

However, Jaime did not seem to care, but continued to plough on in whatever ridiculous way he was trying to explain to her the importance of their friendship. "Wench, I love you loads and sometimes I think you don't see how much I adore you..."

"I do, Jaime, I do," she admitted honestly. In all the years she had been alive, Brienne had never had a friend who cared like Jaime. Yes, he could be arrogant at times and liked to tease her, but he also had a way of seeing right through to the centre of her and disarming her with an insightful question. And then there was the time he had taken a knife to the hand for her. It was _obvious_ he cared about her; it was written over his every action. Therefore, it was only natural that Brienne loved him and wanted more than what they currently had. Yet, at the same time, she wouldn't lose him for the world, so refused to pollute their friendship with her wasted feelings. Consequently, Brienne just kept quiet and offered her best friend her reassurance. "I know. I promise."

"Good," Jaime replied ardently, letting out a great sigh as if a heavy weight had just been lifted off his shoulders, "because we'll have to talk about this, wench. We've been friends for so long that... it's not gonna be easy... it's gonna be really hard... we're gonna have to work at this every day... but I want to do that because I want you. I want all of you... forever... you and me... every day."

"I'm sorry Jaime, I dropped my phone. Can you say that again?"

However, just at that moment there was a loud shout on the other end of the line. Brienne could instantly tell it was Bronn by the obnoxious tone of his voice. "JAIME! ARE YOU TALKING TO BRIENNE?"

"Yeah," replied Jaime quietly. Brienne knew Jaime well enough that he had just mumbled to Bronn in embarrassment. She wasn't surprised; Brienne Tarth wasn't cool in any way, shape, or form, so she found it easy to believe Jaime was embarrassed of their friendship. It was only right.

"Oh for fuck's sake," came Bronn's voice, slurring and irritated. "Stop talking to your girlfriend and do some more SHOTS!"

If Brienne were not so aware of the world and the small place she could hope to hold in Jaime's life, she would have been hurt by how quickly he replied. "She's _not_ my girlfriend."

"GET ON WITH IT THEN!" shouted Bronn, the audio distorting at how loudly he was speaking. "We all know that you want to fuck--"

Then, quite abruptly, the call cut off and Brienne was left listening to the dialling tone.

"Hello? Hello? Jaime?"

Getting nothing, Brienne went searching for the end of her charger so she could plug her phone back in. Although Jaime had been quite sweet in how gushing he had been about their friendship, Brienne did not really want him to phone back. Late night calls were for people who loved each other, after all; for men who got _real_ boners for the women they drunk dialled, not just a boner of the heart. Therefore, Brienne felt no shame in dropping Jaime a text.

 _Brienne:_ I'm going to bed. We'll chat tomorrow x

Once the phone was plugged back in, Brienne turned her light off and went to sleep, trying not to dream of her best friend's eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please consider leaving comments and kudos: I write for fun but publish for feedback.
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	26. Sign Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne prepares to sign her divorce papers...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Continuing my procrastinating, this is a prompt from anonymous from the short fic list. They asked for a "going through a divorce au". I hope you enjoy, but, be aware, angst ahoy!

Brienne stared at the dotted line, transfixed by the horizontal finality of it. 

When she signed, a part of her life would be over. No longer Ms Lannister, no longer Jaime’s wife, no longer his lover, his bedfellow, his friend. They would go from being the other’s half to as unconnected to one another as two strangers randomly selected from a crowd. As that realisation sank in, Brienne picked up her pen. Her lawyer, Catelyn, had told her that she needed to get this signed as quickly as possible for her own mental well-being as well as her finances. 

“You can move on the second you sign,” Catelyn had said when she had placed the papers down on the desk in front of Brienne. “You don’t have to live under this shadow anymore. You can have your life back.”

But was her relationship with Jaime truly a life lived under a shadow? They had met at work; he a lazy nightclub bouncer, she a bartender. At first, she had thought him sullen, rude, aggressive, and the type of co-worker that made you want to quit your job. However, she had warmed up to him. Perhaps it was the time he punched the rude client who called her ugly that changed her opinion, or perhaps it was that she finally got his dark sense of humour without feeling insulted, or perhaps when he had protected her from burglars late one night and injured his hand as a result, but somehow, she went from being furiously annoyed by his mere presence to missing him awfully when it wasn’t his shift.

Aware of her feelings, Brienne nevertheless found it difficult to get close to him. She knew his family were _complicated_ and he was mixed up in a lot of dark stuff, and consequently he lived behind a veil of false bravado and confected arrogance. But when she had finally picked away at the veneer…

“I love you, Brienne,” he had breathed between her breasts that first night they had spent together. “I love you so much and I didn’t know it felt like this until I met you.”

Oh, she had believed him so ardently, wanted to believe him; that beautiful, one-of-a-kind Jaime Lannister loved ugly, freakish Brienne Tarth. Yet, flicking open the divorce papers back at Sansa’s, Brienne knew that must have been a lie, even then. When she had given him her virginity and taken him to her bed, Jaime had known that he had fathered three children with his own twin sister, while Cersei was married to a moderately well-known local politician, but had kept silent.

In fact, Jaime had not chosen to tell Brienne the truth at all; not when they decided to make it official, nor when they moved in together, nor when he proposed to her on a moonlit beach in Dorne, nor the night before their wedding, nor when he had made her his wife, nor when they tried for a baby and they discovered she was infertile. In fact, Brienne’s first hint had come when she had been going through their joint account a few weeks after the honeymoon, and she had found a standing order delivering money monthly from their account to Cersei’s.

She had not thought anything of it at the time and put it down to a brother’s love for his sister. Following her divorce, Cersei had been struggling, after all.

It was the day before she had first contacted Catelyn that she had discovered the truth. Brienne and Jaime had gone around Tyrion’s for a barbeque, and after several hours of drinks and burgers, she had noticed that her husband had been missing for some time. Going inside the house to search for him, she had heard secrets whispered behind a door that had shaken the foundations of her world and made her change her mind about nearly everything she thought she knew.

“You should give me more.”

“Why?”

“I deserve it.”

“You’ll just drink it all away.”

“It’s for the children.”

“For Joff, you mean. He’ll spend it all on weed, and Tommen and Myrcella will get nothing.”

“Well if you came back, I…”

“I’m not coming back.”

“Why not? I’ve missed you.”

“I am with Brienne now.”

“Ha! That great shambling beast. What is she compared to me?”

“My wife. I love her.”

“Hardly. What can sex with that monster be like in comparison to sex with me? We were fucking before we even had a name for it. Remember what you used to do with your fingers? With your tongue?”

“Cersei…”

“You put three children in me, and you expect me to forget it? Just so you can go back to that great barren cow of yours.”

Three children. Three children Jaime had fathered with his sister. Three children that Brienne could never give him. Without even letting him know what she had heard, Brienne ran from the party and went back to their flat. Her eyes blurry with tears, she had packed a bag and fled to her friend Sansa’s, confiding in her the whole sorry story.

“Oh Brienne,” Sansa had said, rubbing Brienne’s back as she cried into her shoulder. “I am so, so sorry.”

“He’s a liar, Sansa,” Brienne had sobbed, gulping air into her lungs in great shuddering gasps. “Our whole life is a lie. And Cersei is right. Why would Jaime stay with me, when he can have the happy family and three children with her?”

The next morning, Sansa had called her mother, the best divorce lawyer in King’s Landing, and Catelyn had got to work. A plan was made; Brienne would stay at Sansa’s and they would take Jaime for everything he had. She had thought that would be the end of it but, in refusing to return home, Brienne found herself bombarded with texts, calls, flowers, chocolates, and gifts that were all from him.

“Brienne, what have I done? Please tell me what I’ve done, and I’ll make it right. I love you so much. I just want you to come home to me. I miss you so much, and my life feels so empty without you. Please, please come back.”

Hanging up on his call, she had sent him a text.

_Joffrey. Myrcella. Tommen. That’s what you’ve done wrong._

She then blocked his number, thereby allowing him no space in her life at all.

The next time she saw Jaime was at the first meeting of their divorce lawyers, when they were to slowly work out how to divide their meagre mortal possessions between the two of them. As Jaime was being represented by Tyrion, it was decided that the youngest Lannister and Catelyn Stark would discuss terms alone, while Jaime and Brienne waited in tense silence outside. They did not quite use that allotted time as their lawyers had recommended, however, as, somehow, they ended up in a cubicle in the ladies’ toilets, with Jaime’s face in between Brienne’s thighs.

“Please forgive me,” he had sobbed onto her freckled skin after she had come. “I love you, Brienne. Please let me explain.”

“Our whole life is a lie,” Brienne said distantly, refusing to look at him even as he continued to kiss the most sensitive parts of her body.

“It’s not,” Jaime cried, reaching for her hand. She pulled it away. “I didn’t lie, only omitted the truth… and I’ll never lie to you again. I swear it.”

“No, you won’t,” Brienne said forcefully, pulling up her underwear and jeans before exiting the toilet, leaving him alone.

They had not spoken outside the lawyer’s meetings since.

And now she was here with the divorce papers in front of her. Catelyn had told her Jaime had signed them, and all that was needed was her signature. And then it would be over. All this pain. All this anger. All this love.

Flourishing her pen, Brienne turned to the last page, where she knew her signature was needed. Unsurprisingly, she found his already there, but it was not all he had written. Even now, even this late into the proceedings, Jaime was still trying to sink his teeth into her tender and vulnerable flesh.

_Jaime Lannister_

_but only because you won’t let me explain_

_it’s clear you don’t love me like I love you_

Enraged, Brienne let out an angry growl, and pressed the pen into the dotted line.

_Brienne Tarth_

_If you believe that I don’t love you,_

_maybe you should go back to your sister_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I would love to hear your thoughts in the form of comments or kudos.
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	27. Two Cupcakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne decides to steal some of Jaime's birthday cake...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Aviss requested "partners in crime au" for the short fic prompt, and this is the result. It is a little quirky, but I hope you enjoy!

As Tywin Lannister was the richest man in Westeros, he had spent a small fortune on the cake for his twins' sixteenth birthday. Brienne had never seen anything like it in her life. It had eight tiers, each of a different type - Victoria Sponge, Lemon Cake, Chocolate Cake, Marble Cake, Yellow Butter Cake, Red Velvet Cake, Carrot Cake, and Chiffon Cake - crowned with a model of the Lannister family made of marzipan. Although she was only fourteen, Brienne knew that the miniature people were a confected lie; Joanna Lannister had been dead three years, after all, and it was as if Tyrion (who had always been kind to her at school) did not exist.

Even so, as it was the most scrumptious thing Brienne had ever seen, she longed to become a child again, stick her hands in it, eat great chunks, and then lick all her fingers clean. However, her diet-obsessed stepmother Roelle seemed determined to thwart that ambition.

"You already shovel enough in your mouth to feed a small cow, Brienne, so you will not be getting _any_ of that cake. I do not want a piglet for a stepdaughter!"

Used to casual insults, Brienne was able to keep her tears and rebukes at bay when her father returned with drinks and Roelle furious glare became a charming smile. When her Wicked Stepmother pressed her lips against Selwyn Tarth's whiskered cheek, Brienne took the opportunity to escape, wanting to follow the scent of eight tiers of baked goodness. 

Unlike people, who always used whatever small power they had to make Brienne feel bad, food never hurt her. Food was always sweet.

Consequently, Brienne had her eyes on the cake throughout Jaime and Cersei's birthday party. It was not intended to be touched until it was cut up and eaten later that evening but...

Then Renly Baratheon danced with Margaery Tyrell. Brienne knew it was futile to have been hoping, but she was hoping nonetheless...

Then she went to talk to Hyle Hunt, and he told her that all girls looked the same in the dark, so she shouldn't worry because someday someone would want to feel her up...

Then Brienne had seen Ron Connington braying to Arianne Martell about what an ugly cow "that Tarth girl” was, and how he had a plan to chuck a rose at her if she dared showed her face at the end of year dance...

Wanting to cry, but not quite able to bear anyone seeing her pain lest they laugh at her further, Brienne drew her walls up around her and left the Lannisters’ great assembly room, trying to keep her expression impassive as she dashed away.

And then she saw it.

Halfway down a deserted corridor, off in a side room, was the cake. The cake of Brienne's dreams. Spotting it through the ajar door, she let out a little squeak. What would it taste like if she stole a bite? Roelle would _kill_ her for entertaining such thoughts, but Brienne hardly cared because she wanted something saccharine to blunt the bitter sting of that evening’s events.

Once she had checked no one was looking, Brienne shimmied inside the room. The cake was sitting on a table at the centre of the room, all sugary wonder. Although Brienne _knew_ this was bad, she almost didn't care. Wouldn't it be funny if she ate the cake and Roelle never knew? And what about if she swallowed down the perfectly fake marzipan Lannister family, which purposefully erased Tyrion?

Yes, eating the cake was wrong, but it felt strangely right at the same time.

She started with the marzipan Lannister family. After climbing onto the table to reach up to the top tier, she pulled the figures off the top layer and bit their heads off one by one.

 _That's for Tyrion,_ she thought mischievously.

After the fake family were demolished, she focused on the top tier of the cake; the great chocolate sponge. As it was covered in a thick chocolate coating, Brienne ran her finger around the base, peeling of the sweet goodness and then licking it off her hands.

 _I am so bad,_ she thought, imagining diet-obsessed Roelle's horrified face, _but I don't care at this moment._

The cake was so good that she took the top tier off and began to eat it; chocolate smearing her lips. It was paradise baked in a cake. It was so good Brienne could almost close her eyes and let her sadness wash away and...

"I caught you with your tongue down his throat and you expect me just to forget it?"

"Jaime, stop playing the jealous lover. Robert is the football captain and I _have_ to go to prom with him. It is expected."

Brienne froze. There were voices outside the door. It only took Brienne a few seconds to realise she could hear Jaime and Cersei Lannister.

"But what about me?"

"What about you?"

"I thought _we_ were going to go to prom."

"Pfft. Why did you think that?"

"You _know_ why I think that."

A nasty chill ran up Brienne's spine. Everyone at school knew about the Lannister twins; beautiful, elegant, sneering, and popular. Everyone also knew about the _rumours_ surrounding the Lannister twins; that they were too close, too similar, and that their relationship was almost unnatural.

The conversation they were now having beyond the door only seemed to prove that beyond all doubt to Brienne.

"We can't be public."

"Why not?"

"Are you really that stupid?"

"No, Cersei, I'm just..."

"Oh gods, you are getting upset."

"No I'm not!"

"Yes you are! Gods Jaime, this really is pathetic. I'm only going to talk to you when you have pulled yourself together."

"Cersei..."

But it was clear his sister was not going to stay and listen, as the _click-clack_ of a pair of high heels signalled that Cersei was walking away from her twin brother, back to the assembly room and pretended normality. At her departure, Brienne held her breath. If Cersei was gone, Jaime would surely leave at any moment too. He would follow her, he would...

"Oh," said Jaime Lannister - the most beautiful boy on the planet - the second he walked into the room and spotted Brienne stuffing cake into her mouth. "What are you doing here?"

  
Given that her hands were covered in chocolate, Brienne suddenly became conscious of what a greasy, disgusting ugly piglet she must currently look. A boy like Jaime Lannister would only find her repulsive, surely, especially as she was eating his birthday cake. Feeling the flush of embarrassment overcoming her cheeks, Brienne tried to find the words but, strangely, they deserted her.

"I... I... I..."

Yet Jaime Lannister was not a boy of indecision of mumbling. Without another word he walked up to Brienne, took the top tier out of her grasp and then held her hand, sticky with chocolate cake. Never having experienced something so intimate with a boy before, Brienne nearly gasped, but then Jaime pulled her towards the side door that led to a quiet alleyway that ran the whole way down the side of the Lannister mansion.

"I won't tell anyone if you won't," he said firmly, once they were outside.

A breath caught in her throat. This close, she was well aware of how beautiful Jaime Lannister was. She did not know what to do. What was he even talking about? The cake? Or what she had just overheard?

However, there was a soft, imploring look in Jaime's eye that made Brienne feel quite weak. Nobody had ever gazed at her with such gentleness before. Given the small piece of tenderness he had just given her, Brienne felt no qualms in saying, "don't worry. I won't tell anyone."

For her promise, Brienne was awarded with a crooked smile that showed his dimples, and a squeeze of the hand. For a moment, she thought she was lost in the pages of a romance, but then Jaime stole a handful of cake from her, and quite quickly they were just two teenagers standing in an alley eating stolen food.

As he was her unexpected partner in crime in the Great Cake Heist, when Brienne looked into Jaime's green eyes, she was not lost, or star-struck, or nervously excited like the heroine in a story would be but intrigued, trying to discover whether her new ally was friend or foe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for getting this far and finishing the chapter. Now, if you wouldn't mind commenting or kudosing, I would greatly appreciate it! I love to hear from you :)
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	28. Drunk Dialled: Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a late night drunken phone call, Jaime turns up on Brienne's doorstep...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for coming back! This is a follow up to "Drunk Dialled: Part I" (Chapter 24), as several people asked for it, so I hope you enjoy.
> 
> This is built from a prompt by jennabarton on tumblr for the "Movie Quote Mash-Up". She asked for:
> 
> 5\. "I’ve fallen in love. I’m an ordinary woman. I didn’t think such violent things could happen to ordinary people.“ - Brief Encounter (1945)
> 
> 25\. "What do you want? You want the moon? Just say the word and I’ll throw a lasso around it and pull it down.“ - It’s A Wonderful Life (1946)
> 
> 28\. "I think I’d miss you even if we’d never met.” - The Wedding Date (2005)
> 
> I hope you like it!

All things considered, Brienne was having a very pleasant night sleep until she was awoken by someone loudly knocking on the front door.

She froze. When she was younger, Brienne had had rather a horrible experience with mean boys on a school trip who had barged into her room late at night after she had been talked into letting them in. Consequently, at the sound, she felt like a deer caught in the headlights.

 _Breathe,_ she instructed herself silently. _I am in my own flat, and I will not allowed myself to be mocked, derided, or hurt by a visitor in the middle of the night. So I will just ignore it and go back to sleep._

"Brienne? BRIEEENNNEE???"

There was no mistaking that voice, however; it was Jaime. Sitting up, Brienne totally forgot the promise she had made to herself two seconds earlier, as her heart was hammering wildly in her chest.

 _What the hell is he doing here?_ she wondered.

Getting out of bed, Brienne pulled her old band t-shirt down until it covered half of her thighs. If Jaime was really going to come into her flat in the middle of the night, he didn't need to be traumatised by the sight of her freckly tree trunk legs. Even so, Brienne did not bother putting on any trousers; Jaime was outside, and he might need her help. There was no time to waste!

Her suspicions were confirmed when she opened the front door and discovered Jaime Lannister was a mess; a beautiful mess, but a mess, nevertheless. His brilliant green eyes were slightly unfocussed, his cheeks flushed, and he seemed to be having a problem standing up. As she was a weak, _weak_ woman, Brienne's heart soared at the sight of her drunken, out-of-control beloved.

"Hello wench!" said Jaime stepping forward, his every feature lighting up the second he laid eyes on her. "I've missed you."

Even though he was being sweet, Brienne could not help but roll her eyes. "I saw you less than six hours ago, and we spoke on the phone less than two."

Stepping forward, close enough that it was almost indecent, Jaime mumbled, "I think I'd miss you even if we'd never met."

There was something in those words - bruising, close, warm - that made Brienne step away from him. "You are drunk, Jaime," she retorted, going for observation and practicality in the face of his misplaced romanticism. "How are you planning on getting home?"

Jaime's eyes widened. Brienne expected him to say that the question hadn't occurred to him, but then he surprised her. "I wanted to see you," he slurred, slipping past her into Brienne's flat the second she gave him the space to. "We have to talk."

"About what?" asked Brienne, closing the door behind him then following him into her lounge. While Jaime stood in the middle of the room - always the centre of the universe - Brienne hovered over by the sofa, nervously pulling at the hem of her t-shirt. She was suddenly quite conscious of how short it was.

If Brienne was anticipating Jaime to say something flippant or something about her shirt, she was in for a disappointment, because instead he went for something totally shocking.

"Love."

Brienne nearly choked on air. "Love? Why love?"

"Do you know what it is?" he asked, slurring and gentle, just as he had been on the phone.

Confused and not understanding what he was getting at, Brienne decided to speak from experience. "Of course. I've fallen in love. I'm an ordinary woman," she admitted, not quite meeting Jaime's eyes.

 _I didn't think such violent things could happen to ordinary people,_ she mused, when his searching gaze made her heart skip a beat. Even though loving him was the best of her, Brienne tried to keep her face impassive as it was also the most painful. That was why her feelings had to remain a secret.

She expected Jaime to offer her some soothing platitude to that confession, but instead he just rolled his eyes at her. "Renly doesn't count. That wasn't love. That was just..."

"What?"

Jaime's drink-addled brain thought about it for a moment. "You just liked him because he wasn't available."

"I know you are drunk, but that really doesn't make sense," said Brienne imperiously, even as she blushed furiously because she knew it was true. Gay and out of her league, Renly had been a safe recipient of Brienne's adoration, as his constant rejection of her was not personal. Jaime and his cod-psychology on the other hand was intensely hand-to-hand.

"It _does_ make sense!" Jaime slurred, stepping forward so quickly it was almost a lunge. "Because it means you don't have to make any hard choices. You wanted him and it was impossible... so you can just love on the downlow. Safe and quiet. Like Flo Rida. Someone who loved you... you would have no idea what to do."

Brienne wanted to hit back at him, to tell him no one would ever love her so she would never even have to deal with that situation, but then she realised Jaime had compared her to Flo Rida, and she had never heard something so baffling in all her life. "Flo Rida? Why am I like Flo Rida?"

"Wasn't he the one who sang the song about loving someone low, low, low, low, low, low, low, low?"

"I don't think that is what that song was about but... hey, why are you kneeling down?"

And before she could stop him, Jaime dropped to his knees in time with his chanted _low, low, low, low, low, low, low, low,_ his breath hot on her skin. As he was now at eye-level with the hem of her t-shirt, Brienne wanted to retreat from him, but found herself trapped by the sofa behind her. Yet, in spite of her obvious embarrassment and her nervousness, Jaime did not make her feel worse but started giggling; that sweet, beautiful sound that always hit her straight at the centre of her chest.

"What?" she asked, a heat blooming in her cheeks at the way his eyes rolled over her legs. " _What?_ "

"Freckles," he slurred, his eyes fixed on the small constellations just revealed by her band t-shirt. "You _do_ have freckles on your thighs."

Then before she could stop him, Jaime reached out and cupped the back of her knee with one hand, his fingers feather-light. It sent a thrill of want up her spine. His lips were so close to her legs, and if he just leant forward, he could...

"What are you doing, Jaime?" Brienne asked, trying to move away from him only to discover she was caged in by both the sofa behind her and the warmth of his touch. "Why are you even here? You were at Tyrion's stag party, you drunk called me to tell me what a good friend I am, and now you are here babbling about Flo Rida and my freckles. What is going on?"

When Jaime looked up at her, Brienne's breath caught in her throat, as his eyes contained the sun, the stars, and the entire cosmos. He was so damn beautiful that, for a moment, she could pretend she was too. "What do you want?" he asked, taking his hand from her soft skin and placing it at the centre of his chest, just where she imagined his heart was. "You want the moon? Just say the word and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down."

Lost at what the hell this conversation was even about, Brienne tried to think of something pithy to say, but repeatedly came up short. What was Jaime trying to tell her? That he wanted to give her the moon? And why was he gazing at her so softly?

"Jaime, what are you talking about?"

"Wench, I..."

"Yes?"

"The thing you've got to understand is..."

"What?"

For a few seconds, Jaime looked up at her, so beautiful it made Brienne's heart hurt.

"Brienne, I'm trying to tell you that I..."

And then he vomited all over his shirt.

"Oh god," moaned Jaime, his cheeks going red as he gazed down at himself in dawning horror. "I've ruined everything!"

Hating how his face screwed up in a moment of self-hatred, Brienne put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "No you haven't. Don't be ridiculous. It is just a little bit of sick, let's get you cleaned up and the you can have a glass of water. You've drunk a lot tonight, so I don’t trust you to get yourself home. You can stay on my sofa."

Clearly far too embarrassed to make a stupid comeback, Jaime got to his feet in silence. Not quite meeting Brienne's gaze, he then started to take his shirt off with shaky hands. Although it wasn't exactly the most romantic moment ever, Brienne could not help but feel a bit hot at the knowledge that his strong, warm chest was so near. In an attempt to distract herself from the heated realness of him, Brienne decided to focus on how she could help him. "I am just going to get you a glass of water. Once you have taken your shirt off, put it in the washing machine in the utility room. There's also a spare toothbrush in the bathroom if you want to brush your teeth. I will be back in a minute."

Dashing off as quickly as she could, Brienne abandoned Jaime in order to go to the kitchen, where she could have a few seconds to herself.

 _Breathe,_ she told herself repeatedly as she filled Jaime's glass of water for him. _He's just drunk... and may have lost his mind. There is nothing going on. He's just Jaime. Just Jaime. Your friend. And you know how to deal with him._

Although it only took a second to fill up Jaime's glass with water, Brienne stayed hidden in the kitchen for a few minutes to give him time to get ready and steady herself. Jaime was drunk, whereas she did not have such an excuse if she ended up embarrassing herself because he was too close.

 _Here we go,_ Brienne thought, steeling herself. _You've got to face him sometime._

When she returned to the living room, she found Jaime standing there looking like some lost baby fawn; albeit a quite sexy baby fawn as he was wearing only his boxers. The second Brienne saw him, Jaime smiled at her in such a way that there were crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

"Wench..."

"Jaime!" Brienne squawked, her face catching fire at the deliciously indecent sight in front of her. "Why have you taken your jeans off?"

Luckily, Jaime then decided to match her blush for blush. "There was sick on them too, and I just thought..."

"What?"

To Brienne's surprise, when she looked into his eyes, she saw fear and trepidation. It only lasted a second, however, before Jaime replaced it with his unshakeable bravado. "I'm cold, wench."

"Not my fault," Brienne replied, a smile curling at the corner of her mouth. "You are the one who took your clothes off in my lounge."

For a split second, Jaime seemed to consider that statement an accurate summation of events, as he turned it over and over in his drunken, befuddled mind, in order to try and find some witty retort that would help him get around her implacable obstinacy. That he was lost for words momentarily allowed Brienne think she had won whatever weird battle this was, but Jaime quickly proved her wrong with what he eventually came up with.

"Take me to bed."

"What?" Brienne spluttered, her whole stomach lurching.

"You heard me," he said breathily, his voice softer than a kiss. "I am cold. You have freckles on your thighs. I think we could keep each other warm."

Totally stunned, it took Brienne a few moments to answer him. "You're mad."

"No I'm not."

"You're _drunk._ "

"Yeah, I am... but I still have a point."

Looking into Jaime's eyes, Brienne suddenly realised she really, really hated alcohol. In one fell swoop it had washed away all that was good about her friendship with Jaime and replaced it with whatever _this_ was; out of the blue comments, the moon, Flo Rida, and freckles. It was strangely raw, unveiled, and Brienne did not like it.

And, if she was honest with herself, it scared her slightly.

"You are _not_ coming to bed with me," Brienne said firmly, knowing it would be far too painful when he woke up in the morning and inevitably left her bed with awkward apologies and a pledge to never mention it again, "but I can get you a blanket and you can sleep in here... and I will stay with you until you nod off. How does that sound?"

For a moment, Jaime looked disappointed, but then he gave her one of his easy smiles. "Okay, wench. Deal."

Brienne set about fixing it up without another word. Getting the woollen blanket from the armchair, she encouraged Jaime to go and lay on the sofa. As it was a three seater, Brienne thought there was plenty of room for him to curl up at one end while she perched on the other. Jaime clearly had other ideas though. Once Brienne had given him the blanket and sat down, he picked up a pillow and placed it on her lap. Only then did he get himself warm under the cover, placing his golden head on the cushion and nuzzling against her like some fat, spoilt house-cat.

"Stroke my hair, wench."

That desire was delivered like an order, so Brienne automatically fought back against it, even though she really, really longed to run her fingers through that spun gold. "What did your last slave die of?"

"Exhaustion," Jaime smiled, rolling over so he could look up at her with those lovely drunk eyes of his. "But you aren't my slave. You are my... Brienne. My wench. So can you please stroke my hair?"

Unable to resist such a pretty plea, Brienne uncurled her fist from its tension-filled ball and lifted it to Jaime's head, twisting his ringlets around her long fingers as he began to sigh. "Do you like that?" Brienne asked nervously, marvelling at how soft his hair was. "Or am I pulling too hard?"

"Perfect," whispered Jaime, his voice like a song as he closed his eyes to enjoy the sensation. "Absolutely perfect."

They stayed like that for a few minutes; Jaime with his eyes closed, Brienne admiring the adorable, drunken demi-god who was now sprawled out half-asleep across her lap and her sofa. If Brienne was the type of girl to waste her life on the impossible, at that moment she might have started ruefully regretting that Jaime could never be hers in the way she wanted; as her boyfriend, her partner, her lover. But Brienne was not like that. She knew that she should be immensely grateful for the small pieces of himself that Jaime gave her - she was ugly and he was beautiful, after all - so she would never ask for anything more. That knowledge allowed Brienne to just kept stroking his hair in silence, unharmed by the impossible.

They continued together in that warm tranquillity for a nameless length of time until suddenly, Jaime snapped his eyes open, making Brienne jump. "What is the matter?"

"I couldn't see you."

Brienne furrowed her brow. "Why is that a problem?"

"I _like_ seeing you."

"Why?

"Your eyes are like sapphires," Jaime mumbled as Brienne’s fingers reached his face. "Sapphires and stars."

"You are talking rubbish," she chided affectionately.

"No I'm not. Sapphires and stars."

 _If only he really meant it,_ Brienne thought, _if only I could deserve it._

At least it was the last thing Jaime said before he fell asleep, so Brienne could carry it with her into her own dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading. If you wouldn't mind, I would love to hear from you in the form of kudos or a comment. They make my day!
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	29. The Kingslayer's Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davos and Lady Sansa plot to get Jaime and Brienne betrothed...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, ages ago ulmo80 asked for an alternate POV of Chapter 14 of this collection "The General and the Sword", so here it all is from Davos' perspective. I hope you enjoy!

When the raven arrived at Winterfell to tell the residents that the Lannister army was swiftly approaching, Davos had rushed from the tower where they kept the ravens to Jon Snow's solar, hoping against all hope that the Dragon Queen was not there. It was not that he misliked the young woman; like Stannis before her, she was giving her blood, sweat, and tears to the protection of an icy northern wasteland that she had barely even seen before. Nevertheless, he was not sure how Daenerys Targaryen would take the sight of a letter bearing a Lannister seal, with the news that the Lannister army was approaching, headed by none over than the Kingslayer.

Even Davos himself felt a chill run up his spine at the messy scrawl inscribing that infamous name into parchment.

_Jaime Lannister._

Yet Davos was here to advise, not to judge. Ever since Stannis' death, he had worked at raising Lord Rickon and as a counsellor to Jon Snow, who had proved time and time again that he deserved faith and loyalty. While Melisandre may have argued it was because he had descended to the jaws of death and risen once more, Davos thought his reasoning was much simpler; the boy was good, kind, and noble, and always tried to do the right thing.

Even though the right thing now might be bargaining with the Kingslayer.

When Davos entered the solar, he was not surprised to discover that Jon was standing by the fire - ever since he had _come back,_ as Melisandre put it, he always hungered for the warm - nor was he shocked to discover he was not alone. Lady Arya was by the window, looking out at the courtyard, while Lady Sansa was darning a stocking, chatting animatedly to her huge bodyguard, the Lady Brienne. The Evenstar's daughter looked awkward in her armour, nodding along to whatever Lady Sansa was talking about. Although she was plainly a marvel, Davos could not help but feel sorry for her. He had lived in the world for many years and knew there was no place for a woman like Brienne of Tarth that did not invite ridicule and spite. And to top it all off, although she was big and strong, Davos could tell that Lady Brienne was one of those people who was easily wounded. Her only armour was to flinch away from others rather than get hurt.

It would be a lonely life for her.

"Jon," said Davos gruffly as he entered the room, abandoning any need for formal titles. "A message has just arrived in the rookery from the Kingslayer..."

"Don't call him that," came an objection - whip-fast - from the Lady Brienne. When everybody turned to look at her, she crimsoned in embarrassment. "I mean... perhaps we should call him Ser Jaime, or _Lord Jaime,_ if he now has Casterly Rock..."

Jon and Lady Arya looked at Brienne confusedly, but Lady Sansa just smiled knowingly and dropped her darning on her lap. "Davos," she said, her tone silken, "you mentioned _Ser Jaime_ has sent us a letter. Is he approaching with the longed for Lannister army?"

"He is indeed," nodded Davos, crossing the room and giving the letter to Jon. "It seems we are to expect them in the morning, and the King... I mean _Ser Jaime_... wants to talk terms first."

Lady Arya made a disgusted sound at the back of her throat. "I say we sling him out on his hook. Don't you remember what he did to father? To Jory? That he slept with his mad sister? And he's called the _Kingslayer_ for a reason."

By the way Jon tightened his jaw, Davos could tell her was about to launch into a lecture on making allies with people you did not necessarily like, but Lady Brienne beat him to it. "Jaime... _Ser_ Jaime is on his way here to offer help against the dead. Unlike them, he is alive, so we need to trust him."

"But for how much longer?" interrupted Jon, looking back into the flames. "He killed Daenerys' father; she will not just sit back and tolerate him as a guest."

Lady Sansa let out a little chuckle. "Although I am most honoured to have Daenerys at Winterfell - her armies are going to be important in our eventual victory, after all - but she must be reminded that this is _our_ home, and we should therefore be the ones who decide how to treat Ser Jaime."

"I vote we stab him in the eye, just like he did Jory," spat Arya, scowling.

Once again, Davos thought Lady Sansa or Jon would answer their sister, but Lady Brienne cut across them. "Ser Jaime deserves _courtesy,_ even if he is a Lannister."

"I don't think..." began Lady Arya, but Lady Sansa waved a patient hand to stop the brewing storm.

"Jon, perhaps you should go to Daenerys and inform her that Ser Jaime is on his way to the castle and that she must prepare herself for that eventuality. Lady Brienne, Arya, you could go to the rookery and get Maester Wolkan to write a reply to Ser Jaime, stating we await his arrival and that we look forward to discussing terms."

Lady Arya did not seem too pleased about that. "And _then_ can we stab him in the eye?"

Davos laughed at Lady Arya's suggestion, but the steely gleam in her eye suggested maybe _she_ did not believe it was a joke. Nevertheless, Lady Sansa only gave her sister a sweet smile, before turning back to Jon. "Does that seem a sensible plan?"

"I don't think we have any other choice," said Jon resignedly, moving away from the fire. "We need the Kingslayer's army, so Daenerys will have to grin and bear it. Davos, why don't you come with me?"

At his lord's order, Davos went to comply but then Lady Sansa stood up, her expression one of mild alarm. "Oh no, can I just speak with you for a moment, Davos?"

"About what, m'lady?"

"Grain supplies," she said vaguely with a wave of her hand. "And, anyway, I think Daenerys will want to hear this important news from Jon. Alone. I imagine she will be... upset."

Although Davos knew little about Daenerys, he thought Lady Sansa's analysis of the situation was pretty apt. It seemed Jon did too as he gave a nod of his head that signified his approval and then swept from the room, going to find his queen. Davos thought that Lady Arya and Lady Brienne would follow, but instead the Evenstar's daughter put her large, freckled hand on Lady Sansa's shoulder.

"My lady, would you like me to stay with you? I am sure that Lady Arya can talk to Maester Wolkan about the letter to Jai-- Ser Jaime."

At her sword sword's suggestion, Lady Sansa let out a reassuring giggle. "Oh, Brienne. My sister has many, many virtues, but none of them are being polite in writing. I would like you there as a moderating influence. Would you be able to manage that for me? It would be the utmost kindness."

While Lady Arya stuck her tongue out at Lady Sansa, Brienne of Tarth nodded reassuringly, and tightened her grip on her sword belt. "Of course, my lady. We shan't be long."

Even though Lady Arya did not look very happy about the situation, she let Lady Brienne shepherd her out of the room. The second the door slammed behind her, she started loudly complaining about the fact that _she_ had to write this letter when she had much more important things to do... like military planning... and...

"M'lady," smiled Davos, trying to block out the sound of the moaning Lady Stark still ringing in my ears. "You wished to speak to me about grain supplies."

To Davos' great relief, Lady Sansa waved his suggestion away. He had never been very good with numbers. "No, I do not wish to talk to you about grain supplies. I wish to speak to you about the situation at hand."

"And which situation is this, m'lady?" asked Davos, with an almost imperceptible raise of his eyebrow.

When Lady Sansa stepped forward, Davos was overcome by the smell of a sweet pomade and lemon cakes. It seemed she had learnt many lessons while living in the south. "The situation with the Lannister army. Ser Jaime will be here soon, and we _cannot_ afford to allow Daenerys to alienate him, nor for him to alienate her. We need them both if we have a hope in Seven Hells of surviving this winter, and I for one am not willing to die by the hand of a dead man because the living cannot stand together. The lone wolf dies while the pack survives, my father always used to say."

"What do you think we should do?" inquired Davos, agreeing instantly. "I am sure Jon can talk Daenerys down from her worst rages, but you know she is a dragon..."

"A dragon with a just reason for hating the man who killed her father," Lady Sansa observed, "and from what I remember of Jaime Lannister, it is clear he has a quick tongue and will not tolerate being spoken down to. He feels no shame for killing the Mad King."

As far as Davos could see, it all seemed a bit of a quandary. "Then what are we to do? Even if Jon manages to convince Daenerys to talk to Ser Jaime, it sounds unlikely that she will do anything other than ask he be stripped of his command of the Lannister army and maybe even lose his head as a price for her continued involvement in the war. How can we convince her that she _must_ work with Ser Jaime for the good of us all?"

Although he feared his question was unanswerable, Lady Sansa gave him a smile that spoke of secret things. "Luckily for us we have a card up our sleeves that, if we play right, will not only bring Daenerys to heel, Ser Jaime into accordance with our goals, and two people very much in love a lot of happiness."

Used to the world of cutthroat politics, Davos was surprised to hear something so sentimental come out of Lady Sansa's mouth. "Two people very much in love? What do you mean?"

If her smile before was secretive, it was now positively conspiratorial. "Ser Jaime and Lady Brienne are in love. And my plan is to exploit all Seven Hells out of their happiness."

* * *

Davos did not believe it. The mere thought was preposterous. Jaime Lannister and Brienne of Tarth? In the short time he had known the lady, Davos had discovered the girl to have a good heart, a sweet temperament, and unending patience, but that was never enough for most men. It was unfortunate that she looked the way she did, because Davos thought Brienne would happily make some decent man a good wife, but she seemed resigned to her lot in life with the sword and the scowl. Yet Jaime Lannister loved her? Davos had not heard anything good about the man and his sins were too numerous to list. On top of his soiled cloak, he was said to be ethereally beautiful. 

Jaime Lannister and Brienne of Tarth seemed too opposite to make sense.

Yet Lady Sansa's plan to facilitate a betrothal between the Kingslayer and the Maid of Tarth seemed to be the only way to bring the dragon and the lion into accord, and they needed that more than ever now the snows were drawing in. Consequently, Davos played his role well as he waited patiently in the room with Jon, Daenerys, Tyrion, Lady Sansa, Lady Arya, and Lady Brienne for the Kingslayer's arrival.

Every time he met Lady Sansa's eye, she smiled knowingly.

When Jaime Lannister swept into the solar with his men in tow, he was everything that Davos expected him to be. Golden-haired, bright-eyed, and with a cocky confidence born of good breeding, he looked like a king. Yet there was moment - brief and barely noticed - when Davos spotted a chink in his armour. Lady Brienne was standing behind Lady Sansa, hidden in the shadows, trying to make herself even smaller as the Kingslayer entered the room, as if she feared he would do something if he saw her. Yet he was too well polished for such slip-ups. The Kingslayer’s only tell was that, when he spotted his lady, his eyes grew soft even though the Maid would not look at him. Consequently, when he saw her flinch away, Jaime Lannister turned to the Dragon Queen, who was more than willing to meet his gaze.

_By the Seven,_ thought Davos. _Jaime Lannister does love the woman! What a turn up for the history books._

Daenerys Targaryen did not have the time for such romantic revelations, however.

"When _I_ was a child, my brother would tell me a bedtime story about the man who murdered our father, who stabbed him in the back and cut his throat, who sat down on the Iron Throne and watched as his blood poured onto the floor."

Strangely, the Kingslayer looked on the verge of laughter. "It is a fascinating story."

"Viserys told me other stories as well," said Daenerys sharply, cutting across him, "about all the things we would do to that man once we took back the Seven Kingdoms and had him in our grasp."

At that statement, a tall Lannister general with a red beard stepped forward. His expression was calm but challenging. "The Lannister bannermen will not accept any threat to Ser Jaime," he declared, his rich baritone forthright in defending his liege lord. "We will consider it an act of war."

"And who are you, pray tell?" asked the Dragon Queen, raising one perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

"Ser Addam Marbrand, my lady."

" _Your Grace,_ " she countered icily, "I am your queen."

Although Ser Addam seemed to be on the verge of accepting that rebuke in the name of civility, Ser Jaime continued with his easy bravado. Davos could see why some people with a less discerning eye for the truth would be riled by him. "There are many queens," he said blithely, and Davos knew he was right. Queen Margaery. Queen Arianne. Queen Cersei. There had almost been too many queens to count.

"We can't trust him," declared Lady Arya with characteristic flair. "He attacked my father in the streets. He tried to destroy my house and my family, the same as he did yours.

That was only answered with more laughter from the Kingslayer. "Do you want me to apologise? Because I won't. We were at war. Would I do things differently? Perhaps, but I would always protect those I love. I'd do that a thousand times."

There was a beat of silence, before the Imp intervened. "Including freeing me?”

Once again, the Kingslayer revealed the weakness in his chainmail, as his eyes went soft, just as they had when he had looked at Lady Brienne. "Even that. You are family."

Queen Daenerys did not seem to agree. "He is an _enemy._ We need the Lannister army, but I will not accept having my father's murderer as their general. I _will not._ "

"Perhaps we can send him to the Wall," suggested Jon, as always trying to find the middle ground. "The Night's Watch is in charge of moving the refugees south. Maybe Ser Jaime can be of use there."

If he did not know about Lady Sansa's plan for Ser Jaime and her sworn sword, Davos may have thought that eminently sensible, but Ser Addam Marbrand had other ideas. "The Lannister men will not accept another man as our leader. We want the Lion of Lannister. No one else."

Given the thin lipped grimaces on both Daenerys and Ser Jaime's faces, Davos thought it was the prime time to put wind into Lady Sansa's sails. "Then it seems we have reached a stalemate," he said, as if he were making a joke at a dinner party. "We need the Lannisters, but the Lannisters will not be parted from Ser Jaime, and many people in this room do not trust Ser Jaime. If only there was a way to create a certain level of _trust_ between two warring factions. Surely, there are ways of coming to an agreement, especially as we have so many courteous, noble _ladies_ in this room who may be able to imagine a way out of this predicament."

"Oh yes, of _course_ Ser Davos," interceded Lady Sansa, just as they had planned. "What an elegant suggestion. How best to bring two warring houses together? Why, a marriage of course."

"He is not marrying _me,_ " declared Daenerys with a scoff.

Lady Sansa offered her a sweet smile as she tried to work her way around the evident tension in the room. "I did not say _you_ , your Grace. There are lots of women in Winterfell who could make Ser Jaime a fitting bride, and in doing so end this fighting."

In spite of it being an eminently sensible suggestion, at that moment, Lady Arya started listing all the Kingslayer's crimes, as if they were not already public knowledge.

"He had a hand in the Red Wedding, and murdered my brother and mother when they were protected by guest right..."

"Excuse me, Lady Stark, but I had nothing to do with the deaths of your mother or brother. I was in captivity at the time," said Ser Jaime, using a tone much more amiable that the one he had adopted since entering the room. "You cannot hold me culpable for the sins of my father, just as I do not hold you culpable for the sins of yours."

Although the Kingslayer was speaking to Arya, Daenerys clearly felt wounded by his words too, so she attempted to play at cordialness too. "Fine. Mayhaps Lady Sansa is speaking sense. A marriage between the Kingslayer and one of our own women may be what is needed to fulfil the absolute minimum level of trust we will need in our allies in the coming war."

"Thank you for your, magnanimity, _my lady_ ," smiled the Kingslayer, a little rudely.

Daenerys' answer was delivered swiftly. " _Your Grace._ "

"I am not married yet."

"Then we must arrange the marriage as quickly as possible," declared Daenerys, looking around to catch the eye of Jon, Lady Sansa, and Lady Arya in turn. "We must draw up a list of eligible women. Kingslayer, we will have your list by tomorrow and from there you can choose..."

Jaime Lannister answered so quickly it almost felt like a jab with a blade. "I do not need a list of eligible ladies. I know which of your women I want."

"You are not having either of my sisters," declared Jon, oblivious to the plan at foot.

"I do not want either of your sisters..." said Ser Jaime swiftly, before seeking to end any hurt. "Pardon the insult, Lady Sansa, Lady Arya.”

"None taken, Ser Jaime," said Lady Sansa with a sunny smile, while Lady Arya glowered at him.

Clearly uncertain about the direction this conversation had taken, Queen Daenerys looked at the Kingslayer as if she wished to search his soul for the truth. "Who do you want to take to wife, then, Kingslayer?"

His answer was just as Lady Sansa had been expecting.

"Wench. What do you say?"

It seemed everyone in the room was surprised except for Lady Sansa and Davos himself. Queen Daenerys looked positively baffled, Lady Arya shocked, and Tormund Giantsbane was laughing heartily. Yet it was Brienne of Tarth's expression that intrigued him most of all. It was one of embarrassment and fear.

_Poor girl,_ Davos thought. _She's learnt her job is to serve and never ask for anything more._

"What do I say to what?" Brienne of Tarth asked stiffly, going bright red.

The Kingslayer just seemed amused. "My proposal."

At his easy tone, it took a couple of seconds for Lady Brienne to compose herself, but when she did, she spoke nothing of love or friendship, just politics. Cold, hard politics.

"I think... I think that a sensible marriage is good thing for you. Marriage to someone from our side could... help foster a sense of trust between us, just as Ser Davos said..."

"Come on wench, don't play the fool," said the Kingslayer harshly, but Lady Brienne did not flinch away from him. Davos got his reason why in the Kingslayer's next breath. "We know each other to well for that."

Even though she crimsoned majestically, Lady Brienne seemed desperate to fight back. "You cannot be serious, ser."

It was as if someone had lit a fuse, because one moment Ser Jaime was standing on one side of the room in his casual, cocksure way, the next he was marching across the room his eyes soft and bright at the sight of his beloved. "I am serious. I have never been more serious about anything in all of my life. The last time we spoke I told you how I felt and nothing has changed. I want you. I love you. And you _must_ be my wife."

If Brienne of Tarth was a more traditional sort of maiden, Davos would have been surprised at what came out of her mouth next. Yet, as he had seen her sadness in the aloof way she carried herself, it seemed only natural. "I cannot. You now have the pick of the North. Surely you can find someone prettier, wittier, more beautiful than me. You could go back out to your tent, think about what you truly want, and then tomorrow Queen Daenerys and Lady Sansa could find the daughter of a northern bannerman who would suit you just fine..."

"I will not leave until you say yes," said Ser Jaime ardently, like a romantic hero in a story, "because I'm scared of walking out of this room and never feeling the rest of my whole life the way I feel when I'm with you. I want _you,_ no one else."

"But you cannot!" the lady cried, panic in her eyes. "You are Jaime Lannister, and I am..."

"Brienne of Tarth," Ser Jaime finished passionately, touching her so gently with his hand on her cheek it was as if she were made of pure gold. "The only good thing in this whole shit world. You are honourable and kind where other people are venal and cruel. You are honest and true when others resort to lies. You are noble. You are just. You are bright, and so full of light that sometimes I feel like I have been blinded."

As Jaime Lannister composed poetry off the hoof, everybody else in the room exchanged absolutely baffled glances. Could this really be the Kingslayer, who ran a sword through the Mad King's back?

Lady Brienne did not seem surprised by his ardent tone, however.

"Jaime..."

"And I am sorry that I am the only one who can see it," he confessed, his voice heavy with the sadness that his lady carried. "I am sorry that I am an old cripple with shit for honour. I am sorry I am not worthy of you, and that you would be demeaning yourself by marrying the Kingslayer. But I am a free man now and I know what I want. _You._ I love you, Brienne, and it would be the greatest honour of my life if you would consider being my wife."

Maybe it was the sweet words, or his self-deprecation, or even the burning look in his eye, but in an instant Lady Brienne crumbled.

"Of course I will marry you, Ser Jaime, as long as Lady Sansa gives me leave...”

"You have my permission," said Lady Sansa swiftly, evidently thrilled that her plan had come to fruition. "The wedding will be arranged as soon as a septon can be found. As the two of you are southerners, it is only right that you are wed in the light of the Seven."

That seemed an eminently sensible plan, but Ser Jaime seemed to disagree. "No, Lady Sansa, we will be married in front of the Old Gods."

"Why?" asked the eldest Stark sister, cocking her eyebrow.

Although Lady Sansa had addressed the question to him, Ser Jaime only had eyes for Lady Brienne, as he lifted his love's hand for a kiss. "Because when you realise you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible. I will not wait for a septon. I will marry Lady Brienne in the godswood first thing in the morning. I want to make our alliance secure."

In spite of the fact that most observers to this highly unlikely turn of events were bathing in the shock of the Kingslayer fawning over the Maid of Tarth, Daenerys was clearly thinking of the bigger picture.

"Lady Brienne is not a northerner. Lady Brienne is not..."

"Excuse me, Your Grace," interrupted Lady Sansa, clearly not wanting her plan ruined. "You are not a Northerner either. Lady Brienne is my sworn sword and she is loyal. I trust her marriage to Ser Jaime will be a solid foundation to our new alliance.”

"And I will marry no one else," declared Ser Jaime, lost in his lady's eyes. "No one else."

Knowing that he had to make sure the deal was sealed before anyone else raised objections, Davos poured a glass of wine and toasted the happy couple. "To Ser Jaime and Lady Brienne."

"Ser Jaime and Lady Brienne!" the room chorused back, as Ser Jaime gave his wife one more jaunty grin before pacing back to the centre of the room, donning his Kingslayer armour once again.

"So, where shall my men be lodged?"

It felt like the first victory in the war against darkness and despair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please consider leaving comments and kudos!
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	30. Take This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the divorce, Brienne's life spirals out of control...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks for reading! This is another prompt from the short fic list. Anonymous wanted number 35, which was "one of them trying to get the other one off of drugs au". It is a loose sequel to Chapter 25 of this anthology, "Sign Here".
> 
> As you can gather, there are references to drug abuse in this one. I hope you enjoy.

"Fuck, Brienne. Wake up. You gotta wake up."

In spite of Loras' desperate tone, Brienne didn't want to wake up. She was having such a pleasant euphoric vision.

_Things are as they once were. She is lying in the sunlight, naked as her nameday, his hand between her thighs, stroking her tenderly and giving her pleasure. Jaime. Her fingers are tangled in his golden hair as he buries his face in her neck, kissing and sucking and nipping until she is moaning his name._

_Jaime... Jaime... Jaime..._

"Shit, has she taken too much?"

"Fucking hell, Loras. I don't know."

"You were the one who brought that Shade of the Evening shit to the party, Ren."

"Yeah, but Brienne is a user. She never knows when to say no."

_Jaime looks up at her, his smile brighter than the sun. "This is how it should be, wench," he says, his voice vibrating in his chest as she lays her head over his heart. "You and me."_

_Brienne sighs. In her heart of hearts, she knows he is right._

"Well, we can't fucking leave her here. The Storm Cloaks will be in here in a second. There is only so long Margaery can distract them and we can't let them see her with blue lips. They'll call us all in for questioning in a heartbeat. They'll want to find the dealer."

"Then we've got to get her out of here. You take her left arm. I'll take her right."

_It is midnight, New Year's Eve. Jaime holds her in his arms, pressing her tight to his chest. His mouth is by her ear and he is whispering to her - sweet things, scandalous things - while Brienne tries not to blush._

_"Should we get out of here?" he asks, his voice husky. "Bring in the new year somewhere quiet, just the two of us?"_

_"Where were you thinking?"_

_He pulls his face back from hers so he can look her in the eye. His eyes hold the stars. "I was thinking your bedroom."_

_The whole world seems to burn._

"Fuck, she's heavy."

"Stop complaining, Ren. Keep moving."

"Is that torch light over there?"

"I don't know. If we can get her across the garden and out to your car, things will be fine. Just keep going."

_She comes home early from work to their shared abode. Wanting to surprise him, Brienne slips into the flat as silent as death. The colours are strange - greys and greens where normally there is sunny yellow - but it feels like home, if a home fallen on its side. Brienne heads for their bedroom, knowing he'll be there; to take her in his arms and make love to her and..._

_Her breath catches in her throat. Jaime is in their bedroom, but he is not alone. Cersei is with him and their beautiful bodies are intertwined; his mouth on hers, his hands on her breasts, her fingers tracing the length of his cock. Brienne chokes on her heartbreak, even though she's known for years... ten whole years..._

_Jaime and Cersei are together, and I am just a ghost._

"That's definitely the Storm Cloaks, Ren. We've got to get the fuck out of here."

"But what are we going to do with her? She's out cold."

"Just put her behind those bushes there. We can come and get her when the coast is clear."

"But what if they find her?"

"Then at least they haven't found us!"

_There are tears in Jaime's eyes and it feels as if the ceiling is about to fall on her head, even as she lays down on their bed - hers and Jaime's, Jaime's and Cersei's - listening to him plead with her._

_"You never let me explain. You signed the papers and ran away and never let me explain. Please let me explain. I love you... I love you... I love..."_

_The world - colourless - blinks into night._

* * *

Brienne opened her eyes. It was so bright, much brighter than when she took the glass of Shade of the Evening Renly had offered her.

 _Fuck,_ she thought. _I promised myself I wouldn't do anymore of that shit._

And yet she had, because Brienne wasn't very good at parties. When the music got too loud and the people too pressing and close, she would always take the opportunity to fly far away. Shade of the Evening took the drinker on a euphoric journey that would transcend miserable mortal life. For Brienne, that meant feeling like she was flying. Having one sip of the blue liquid would take her back into her happiness, back into the days before the divorce when she had loved Jaime with all her heart, and she believed he had returned that feeling.

Yet in reality, they had been divorced ten years. Ten whole years.

Sometimes, Brienne liked to pretend they weren't and that she could just pick up the phone and call him; that he would be waiting on the other end of the line. In truth, she no longer had his number as they were now strangers to each other.

 _He fucked his sister,_ Brienne reminded herself. _He fucked his mad sister and lied about it. I don't want to think about him._

As the euphoric effects of the Shade of the Evening had now worn off, it didn't take Brienne long to realise that she was lying on the ground in the dirt. Cold and wet. Every inch of her hurt, and her artfully ripped jeans were now actually ripped. The inside of her mouth tasted awful, just as it always did after she took Shade of the Evening, and her stomach was roiling.

The only evidence she had that this was not actually one of the Seven Hells was that her phone was ringing.

"Hey Renly," she rasped, her throat feeling like sandpaper when she went to answer him. "What the--?"

"Brienne, did they get you?"

"Did who get me?"

She could almost hear Renly rolling his eyes. "The Storm Cloaks. They raided the after party and were looking for the Shade dealer. Did they get you?"

Confused by his questions, Brienne looked around, trying to work out where she was. It only took her a few moments to realise she had been lying in a bush at the bottom of Margaery's expansive garden, the morning rising all around her.

"No," she admitted, relieved and ashamed at the same time. "I'm still at Margaery's."

"Thank fuck. We couldn't lose our blue-lipped party-girl."

Brienne swallowed loudly. Renly always called her that - _his blue-lipped party-girl_ \- but she did not see that person when she looked in the mirror. Yes, Brienne’s reflection showed her blue-stained lips - it was only to be expected when she drank Shade of the Evening so regularly - but that wasn't who she was inside. Her using could be covered up with a dark lipstick, but Brienne had long hoped that her true self was evident on her face. Yet it seemed Renly couldn’t see beneath and therefore didn't know her at all.

"Where are you?" Brienne asked, fearing the answer.

"I am back at Loras'. We're in our PJs trying to get over our hangover."

She could not help but frown. There was something suspicious in the picture of domestic bliss Renly drew. The previous night, her, Renly, and Loras had arrived together. Brienne could not remember what happened next, but it had resulted in her waking up in Margaery's garden. She was lucky hadn’t died or been arrested for dealing. 

"Did you leave me here last night?" she inquired casually, almost as if it were no big deal.

"Well... I... uh..."

The tone of his voice told her everything she needed to know. Renly and Loras had left her in the garden and then ran away to save their own skins. The whole time she had been friends with them, Brienne had known they were flaky, superficial, and disloyal, but she had not wanted to believe it.

Until now.

"Save it for somebody who cares," Brienne snarled, and hung up the phone.

* * *

By the time she got back to the flat, Brienne had decided she needed to get her life together. Waking up, abandoned, in a bush was a step too far. It was bad enough that she didn't have a job and she was living off the money from the house sale made after her father died (that was rapidly running out), but even worse was the fact she was sleeping on Hyle's sofa. They had only fucked a few times but, apparently, he was the only person in the world she could rely on. Brienne had burnt her bridges with Sansa before she left King's Landing. After the divorce, Brienne had been forced to sell the lovely little house she shared with Jaime, so was looking for somewhere else to live. In the meantime, she had stayed with Sansa. Depressed and miserable, Brienne’s meantime had somehow become forever, so her and Sansa's twenty-year friendship ended up being burnt down in a firestorm of recriminations and accusations.

"You need to get control of yourself, Brienne. You can't mope around here miserable and angry for ever. You need to get a job, a life..."

"Jaime and I are _divorced..."_

"And that was _your choice_ because you could not bring yourself to forgive him."

After Sansa had kicked her out, Brienne had intended to go back to Tarth, but then her father had had a sudden heart attack and died at the grand old age of fifty-nine. Before she even had time to grieve, Brienne found herself knee-deep in her father’s debt, house sales, and women crawling out of the woodwork to claim some of Selwyn Tarth's fortune for their bastard offspring who had the Tarth’s telltale blue eyes. Wanting nothing more than to burn the whole lying edifice down, Brienne had fled her island home with her small pile of beans and gone to Storm's End, desperately needing to be anywhere other than King's Landing or Tarth. There, she had discovered Shade of the Evening, parties, and Renly; Hyle became her booty call and she sometimes crashed on his sofa, if she wasn't passed out at some all-night rave.

It was all for the Shade. The Shade let her remember the good times with Jaime and write a happier ending.

_I can't do this to myself forever..._

On the spur of the moment, she decided she would change. Brienne left a note for Hyle - _thanks for all the good times, I'll see you around_ \- before packing her small number of belongings into her rucksack and heading to Storm's End station. She had to wait an hour for the next train to King's Landing, but spent the time reapplying her lipstick to cover her obviously blue lips and planning what to do next.

_There's a hostel I can stay at in Flea Bottom, while I look for a flat..._

Over the next few weeks, Brienne's new life slowly came into focus. After the hostel came the grubby flat with the broken sink and the bed that was too small for her. As she had bartending experience, Brienne soon found a job over at a grungy dive bar called _The Silken Sheets_ which she was sure only existed as a money-laundering operation. Nevertheless, it was a start, and it allowed her to hone in on the next big target.

_Get off Shade of the Evening._

At first, Brienne thought it would be best to try going Cold Turkey, but that only succeeded in causing the sweats, anxiety, and an overwhelming urge to somehow find Jaime and tell him she was a fucking idiot who was finally ready to listen. As that dd not work, Brienne then tried to wean herself off it gradually. Unfortunately, that plan was also a dud, as she found she was drinking more of the stuff than ever before, which was not good as she had no money or a party to blame it on.

Consequently, Brienne eventually came to the conclusion that she needed help. Professional help.

The Shade Scheme was a network of counsellors, mental health practitioners, and health care specialists who met in a disused office block on the weekends to help addicts. Although she didn't _feel_ like an addict, Brienne's blue lips told her otherwise, so she put on a pair of big sunglasses to hide her appearance and turned up at the weekend rehab, hoping to get help.

"Welcome to Shade Scheme," said the much too happy looking receptionist. "How can I help you?"

Shuffling her feet nervously, Brienne tried to explain her predicament and promptly failed. "Why the fuck do you think I'm here?"

_Because the Shade of the Evening brings me closer to Jaime and what we once could have been._

"Of course," replied the receptionist, her smile dimming. "I need your name, and then I can allocate you a counsellor, someone who can help you begin your journey towards an addiction free life."

Not yet trusting anyone or anything, Brienne decided to tell a little white lie. "My name is Jeyne Poole. Who is this counsellor I am meant to speak to?"

Typing away on her computer for a few moments, the receptionist eventually came up with an answer. "His name is Jay and, I promise, he will do all he can to help you. He is really helpful and giving, even for a counsellor, so I am sure you will find him very reassuring."

Brienne doubted that, but she nodded her head anyway. "Okay, where do I need to go?"

"He's in Room 12. Go straight down this corridor and it is third on your right."

"Thanks."

Not wanting to put up with any more of the receptionist's inane smiles, Brienne did what she was told and made her way down the corridor, mentally preparing what she was going to say to Jay. Before leaving the house, Brienne had not bothered putting her lipstick on, meaning Jay would be able to see her awful blue lips. Part of her had done it to be defiant and to dare her counsellor to fucking look at her - broken, messy Brienne - while another thought it would save her from having to explain the truth.

_I became an addict because I never let the man I love explain, and the Shade of the Evening helps me pretend I took a different path._

On reaching the door, Brienne steeled herself for a few moments before entering, her head held high.

"I hear you are one of these addict counsellors, I--"

Brienne froze. The man who was waiting for her in the office was not just any old addict counsellor. No. He was Jaime fucking Lannister. In the ten years they had been apart, there was more grey in his blond hair, but other that small sign of aging, he was still her Jaime. Golden. Green-eyed. Healthy. Perfect. Brienne’s mouth still watered at the sight. Amazed at how the years had apparently had no effect on him, Brienne could not help but be so disgusted with herself and her own fucked up life that she wanted the ground to eat her up.

"Jaime! I... I... I..."

In the face of her babbling, Jaime was seemingly completely stunned too. "Brienne," he eventually managed to gasp, his green-eyes wide. "What are you doing here?"

It was too much. Coming to the Shade Scheme had already been a big step, but seeing him here, judging her for her weakness, was far, far too much. 

"Gods, this was a bad idea," Brienne mumbled, turning to leave. 

Yet, if she thought Jaime would just let her go, she was sorely mistaken. 

Scrambling towards her, Jaime grasped her wrist tightly, stopping her moving away from him. "This is not a mistake. If you want to get off the drugs but you don't want to talk to me... fine. We'll get you another counsellor. Here at Shade Scheme, it is your mental and physical health that is most important to us."

As he was adopting the same tone as the receptionist - condescending and superior - Brienne could not help but bark back at him. "Just in your capacity as a counsellor at Shade Scheme, huh? Because I seem to recall you never gave a shit about my mental health before, Jaime. You were fucking your sister behind my back, after all."

"I was _not_ fucking Cersei while we were together," Jaime said passionately, the fire in him that Brienne knew so well burning to the surface. "It was over between us, it _had been_ over between us, even before I met you."

"Then why didn't you tell me?" she asked, the question she had been pushing down for ten years breaking the surface.

At her insistent tone, Jaime looked into her eyes. Hidden in the green, she could see all the pain she had been feeling for the last ten years reflected right back. "I didn't want you to know that part of me. I thought you would hate me for it, despise me, and that I would never have had a chance with you."

"Me," she spat bitterly. "Like I am some pearl."

"You _are,"_ Jaime proclaimed ardently, stepping forward and turning her around to face him. "You must know that I have always thought of you that way. Brienne... my wonderful wench."

The moment her use her old nickname, that rude-sweet term of endearment, Brienne could not keep it back anymore. Letting out a choked cry, she covered her face with her hands. "I've fucked everything up, Jaime!"

"Oh, wench," he replied soothingly, drawing her into his arms. It felt as if she had never left. "Whatever has got you into this mess, I will do everything in my power to get you out of it."

Loving the familiar, warm feeling of him, Brienne allowed herself to cry into the crook of his neck, overwhelmed by the softness she always tried to hide. "But why? Why would you help me?"

"I might not be your husband anymore," Jaime said, his voice weighed down by pain, "but I do care about you. _Endlessly._ So I am going to get you off this horrible Shade, if it's the last thing I do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! As ever, I love to hear what you think in comments and kudos! I adore each and everyone one :)
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	31. Drunk Dialled: Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Jaime's drunken night, Brienne does not know the best way to deal with him...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks so much for reading! This was again formed out of a prompt for the "Movie Quote Mash Up" from lovelylittlewren, who asked for numbers 12 and 13:
> 
> 12\. "But the you who you are tonight is the same you I was in love with yesterday, the you I’ll be in love with tomorrow.” - If I Stay (2014)
> 
> 13\. "I vow to fiercely love you in all your forms, now and forever. I promise to never forget that this is a once in a lifetime love.“ - The Vow (2012)
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Brienne opened her eyes, already sighing.

She was staring at the ceiling of her bedroom, tracing patterns of mould and flaking paint with a tired glare. Last night, she had had barely any sleep. It had started when Jaime had called her late, drunk and babbling, then turned up on her doorstep armed with even more ridiculousness; laughing at the freckles on her thighs, talking nonsense, and getting her to stroke his hair. It had not yet ended. When Jaime had eventually fallen asleep, Brienne had managed to extract herself from under his head and, after checking he was comfortable, return to her room. Once there she had laid down on her bed and committed herself to a fitful and restless sleep, her mind filled with nothing but thoughts of Jaime and everything he had said. It had been _dangerous_.

 _He was drunk,_ Brienne told herself over and over into the small hours. _He was drunk and talking about our friendship. Nothing else._

Trying to breathe to force the strange pressure that was now sitting on her heart off her chest, Brienne got out of bed and looked around for some clothes. It was one thing letting Jaime see her freckly thighs when he was blind drunk, quite another in the cold sober light of day. Once she had found some jeans, holey underwear and a _Night's Watch_ t-shirt, Brienne edged towards the door and opened it gently, lest she rouse the monster. Looking across the living room towards the bathroom, Brienne could just make out the shadowy figure asleep on the sofa, his form rising and falling with every breath.

_Jaime._

Even in sleep he appeared a vision.

Not wanting to disturb him, Brienne crept across the living room as quietly as she could until she got to the bathroom. Once inside, she claimed her sanctuary, turning the shower on in an attempt to block out all thought of him sleeping beyond the door. In her imagination, Jaime was poised and ready to strike like a cornered rattlesnake.

As the she ran the warm water through her hair, Brienne could already feel the poison under her skin.

_I don't know... like, when I see you... my heart has a boner. I love you that much._

_Someone who loved you... you would have no idea what to do._

_Your eyes are like sapphires. Sapphires and stars._

Everything Jaime had said to her while drunk and disorderly was too sweet, too lovely, and therefore veering dangerously close to her own heart. In all the time they had been friends, Brienne had become an expert at locking down her deeper feelings for him, so tight that they never showed on her externally. At first, it had all been an effort not to get hurt, but then it had mutated into a determination to sever herself from them entirely.

 _Gods, Jaime would feel quite sick if he knew I loved him,_ she shivered. _And then he would pity me, and I don't want his pity._

After finishing her shower, Brienne got changed into her clothes, which felt like a suit of armour in comparison to the exposing band t-shirt she had been wearing when Jaime saw her last. Consequently, she was not fearful of marching back across the living room into her bedroom in order to retrieve the spare pair of Jaime's jeans and t-shirt she always kept for emergencies. Once she had them in hand, Brienne returned to the sofa on which Jaime was snoring, Sleeping Beauty incarnate.

"Jaime," she whispered, putting his clothes down on the arm of the sofa. "Jaime. It's time to get up, it is late morning."

Not hearing her, Jaime continued to sleep. Brienne sighed. She knew it was wrong - that she was taking something that did not belong to her - but she could not help but reach out and stroke his cheek with the back of her fingers, letting his stubble scratch her skin.

"Jaime, sweetness. You've got to wake up. It is late."

Perhaps it was her touch, or her soothing tone, but Jaime suddenly opened his eyes; all green, bright, and dazzling. Brienne flinched away instantly.

"Oh," he sighed, stretching and straining as he did so, "wench, it's you."

In his effort to do his best impression of a pampered house cat, Jaime knocked the blanket that was covering him to the floor, revealing the long, lithe, golden body that instantly turned Brienne's mouth dry. In the dim morning light, their closeness almost felt intimate, and Brienne was left to wonder what it would be like if she could wake up every morning with a semi-naked Jaime by her side. As that vision began to overwhelm her, Brienne moved away from him, hoping he could not see her feelings in her eyes.

"Yes, it's me," she said quickly, blushing profusely. "I've brought you your spare change of clothes, and you are more than welcome to go and have a shower. There's a spare toothbrush and towel in there for you... and I was thinking of making eggs... a fry up actually. I hear it helps with hangovers."

Laughing to himself, Jaime sat up, his eyes still soft and tender. "Sounds great. My head feels as if it is going to explode."

Brienne suddenly felt strangely protective towards him. "Well, best get showered, and I'll cook you your breakfast," she smiled, resisting the temptation to touch him once more.

At her promise, Jaime gave her one of those dazzling smiles that he had worn so easily while drunk, but now looked as if it were part of a dream that had somehow broken into reality. "Alright, wench. Thank you."

With one tired arm, Jaime leant out to take her hand, but Brienne backed away, heading in the direction of the kitchen. When his face fell, her chest felt tight with regret.

 _If only I was beautiful,_ she thought. _If only I was worthy._

Once she got to the kitchen, Brienne tried to distract herself from the sounds of Jaime moving around the living room. She put on the kettle to make herself a coffee and poured him a glass of water. She attempted to focus on the satisfying _hiss_ of the sausages hitting the pan, the smell of bacon wafting throughout the kitchen, and the rhythmic surety of stirring the beans. She tried not to think of the sculpted perfection of his chest. Even as she strained herself focussing on these mundane tasks, Brienne's mind was brought back to reality by the noise of water hitting tiles in the bathroom.

Jaime was in the shower. Naked.

 _I've got to stop this,_ she told herself. _I don't care how much it hurts us both, but I can't let him be so close. He'll start dating again and then I will have my heart cut out of my chest when I am forced to watch him fall for some beautiful girl who loves him only half as well as I could._

_Gods, I've got to put an end to this._

Brienne was in the process of serving up breakfast when Jaime finally entered the kitchen, his hair still wet from the shower. He looked tired, but still beautiful, even though he was wearing a t-shirt in a blue that clashed with the colour of his jeans.

"Thanks for this," he muttered when Brienne put his breakfast down on the tiny kitchen table and indicated he should sit down, which he obliged immediately. "I was expecting you to just kick me out."

Brienne let out a laugh tinged with bitterness as she sat down next to him with her own food. "What do you take me for? I'm your best friend. It is my duty to look after you when you are drunk."

"And I _was_ drunk, wasn't I?" Jaime replied, a regretful whistle escaping through his teeth. "My head hurts so much... I can barely remember anything about last night."

A great sense of relief washed over Brienne, that she had to disguise by starting to pick at her brunch. "That's only to the good," she assured him. "We are all our worst selves when we are drunk."

Jaime shovelled a scoop of beans into his mouth and then still tried to speak, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Oh gods, was I awful? What was I talking about? Was it complete rubbish? Because I don't really remember what the hell I was doing. I was having drinks with the boys and they were telling me not to phone you because I wanted to tell you..."

As he followed his train of memory, Jaime's expression had gone from one of pleasure to one of mounting horror, the colour slowly draining from his cheeks.

"What is the matter?" asked Brienne, cutting up her sausage. "Are you okay?"

It took a few moments of Jaime swallowing loudly before he dropped his fork and turned to look at her, so directly it almost pierced her soul. A weird desperation haunted his features. "Oh shit, I phoned you, didn't I?"

"Yes," smiled Brienne, remembering the sweet heart-breaking rubbish he had told her on the phone. "And then you turned up here... laughing and saying very silly things."

Although Brienne had been trying to ameliorate him by downplaying the whole incident, Jaime continued to look as white as a sheet. "Wh-wh-what did I say?" he stammered, looking at her with eyes like lasers. "Brienne, you've got to tell me. _What did I say?"_

There was something a little terrifying in Jaime's voice that compelled her to speak. Not quite able to meet his eye, Brienne began to explain it as vaguely as possible. She did not want to embarrass him or let him believe she had misread the signs. "Oh, you were just telling me how much I mean to you."

At that statement, Jaime went even paler. "What? I told you I love you?"

"Yes, it was very sweet," Brienne admitted, a blush coming to her cheeks. "How much you love me. How much you value our friendship. That sort of thing."

Jaime's eyes widened. "Our _friendship?_ I told you what a good friend I think you are?"

"Yes," replied Brienne confusedly, sensing that Jaime was surprised by this suggestion. His reaction disturbed her, as the thought that he did not see her that way hurt Brienne more than she could say. "Don't you think we are friends?"

Abandoning all pretence of eating his food, Jaime reached over and took her hand. Brienne tried to hide the fact that his touch lit her up like a candle, but she was sure she had failed. "Of _course_ I think we are friends; you are my best friend but... are you _sure_ that is what I was saying?"

Brienne nodded firmly. Although in silly girlish moments she had imagined his sweetness as something else... it was impossible. "I am sure," she smiled, squeezing his fingers to soothe him. "You were being over-the-top, as usual - saying that my eyes looked like sapphires and stars, giggling about the fact I have freckles on my thighs, telling me you were going to give me the moon - but I appreciated it all, anyway."

For some reason, at her recounting of the previous night, Jaime blushed a brilliant red. It looked strange on someone who was usually so self-confident. "I... I... saw the freckles on your legs, wench?"

Then it was her turn to blush.

"You got down on your knees and were singing a Flo Rida song at me," Brienne admitted, letting go of Jaime's hand lest he think she believed that it was a serenade. "I was wearing my band t-shirt... so you were kinda eye level with my thighs."

If Brienne had hoped that would reassure him, Jaime just looked even more baffled. "And I didn't have anything to say about that?"

"No, you were just giggling at the fact I had freckles," she reminded him, while storing that sweet memory away for later perusal. "It was quite adorable."

At any slight compliment from her, Jaime would normally turn teasing and wouldn't let it go for hours. This time, however, he just looked stunned. "So, last night, I told you that I love you, that you have eyes like sapphires and stars, that I had a... _reaction_ to your freckles, and that I would give you the moon, and you thought I was telling you that I value your friendship?"

Jaime was looking her so intently that Brienne was forced to drop her gaze back down to her beans and try to change the subject. "Of, course. What else could you have been talking about?"

As she was not brave enough to look up and see the horror that dawned in his eyes when he realised that the prospect of them as a _romantic_ pair stood just on the horizon, Brienne swirled her beans around with her fork. She only stopped when Jaime reached over and stole her cutlery, forcing her to raise her eyes to his face.

"Think about it, wench," he commanded, leaving her no choice but to go back over the previous night in her mind once more. "What could I have possibly meant other than friendship? Did I say anything else?"

Brienne took a moment to sift through her memories, trying to make sense of the previous night while withering under Jaime's heated stare. "You said what I’ve already _told_ you. You said you love me, that you would give me the moon, that we would need to talk about things... oh, come to think of it, you did say something else. Something quite funny!"

"What?" asked Jaime, looking confused at the abrupt change of tone.

Giggling to cover her nerves, Brienne decided to tell him the truth. "You told me that when you look at me, your heart gets a boner."

If he looked pale before, Jaime was now a ghost.

"My heart gets a boner?"

"Yes," smiled Brienne, slowly feeling as if she was regaining control of this conversation now that she had unsteadied him with that hazy memory. "That you love me so much that your heart gets a boner when you look at me."

Chuckling to herself, Brienne nearly missed what Jaime said next.

"What if I told you that my heart was not the only bit of me that gets a boner when I look at you?"

Her laughter died at once. "Then I would _know_ you must be joking."

"Why would you think that?" asked Jaime, his stare weirdly intense. "From the sound of it, I spent all of my drunken episode last night trying to tell you what I've been attempting to show you for ages; that I love you. Not in a _best friends_ way, or an _I-love-you-like-a-sister_ way, but in a full blown passionate, romantic, boner-inducing _I love you_ kind of way."

Brienne blinked at him confusedly, unable to comprehend what he was saying. "Are you still drunk?"

"No," said Jaime ardently, pressing his hand to his chest, "and you can tell by the fact that I am trying to be eloquent about it this time when I declare my love for you, so you don't get muddled and think I am just talking about friendship."

Thinking this must be some kind of elaborate joke, or a dream, or a hallucination, Brienne squinted at Jaime. "Am _I_ drunk?"

"No, you are not drunk," laughed Jaime, pushing his food away from him and swivelling in his chair so he could look at her head on. "I _did_ just confess I love you in your kitchen mid-hangover... after you called me sweetness this morning... or was I just imagining that?"

Having thought he was asleep, Brienne had permitted herself that small intimacy, unaware that he would later torment her with it. That she had revealed herself so easily made Brienne so horribly embarrassed that she forgot about her food and got to her feet.

"Don't tease me," she ordered him, crossing the room to be as far away as possible.

Jaime countered her by standing up too. "I'm not teasing you. I love you."

"You just thought you loved me last night because you were drunk," Brienne insisted, stepping back while holding a warning hand up towards him. "In this light... you can't feel the same. I know who I am, and I know who _you_ are. It’s the hangover talking, it’s..."

Having wanted to retreat into the safety of their friendship, Brienne was horrified to discover that Jaime was not letting this dangerous, _dangerous_ topic lie, as he stepped forward, cornering her over by the fridge. "The you who you are today is the same you I was in love with yesterday, the you I’ll be in love with tomorrow," Jaime admitted, lifting his hand to brush her hair from her eyes. To Brienne, it felt so exquisite and terrifying at the same time. "I love you, wench, and even though I was drunk, that was what I was trying to tell you last night."

Trapped in an echo of his embrace, Brienne felt she had no choice but to bite back. "But... but... but... you can't!" she stammered, having nothing to fight him with other than her words. "It doesn't make any sense!"

"Why not?" Jaime barked, boxing her in with his arms.

The truth was surprisingly simple.

"I am Brienne and you are Jaime. _We_ don't make any sense."

His eyes dimmed in something that looked like disappointment.

 _It can't be,_ Brienne told herself. _He can't be disappointed._

"I fit with you better than anyone else," Jaime said firmly, even as he wore a slightly wounded expression. "You and me are the only thing that _does_ make sense!"

"As _friends._ Everyone would laugh at you if they saw you were going out with Ugly Brienne Tarth."

Jaime rolled his eyes, just as he always did when Brienne mentioned the facts about her physical appearance. "That is not true. No one would laugh and you are _not_ ugly."

"I own a mirror. I know what I see, I know..."

"So what?” he interjected, almost angrily. “What about what I see when I look at you?" 

While she was terrified, Brienne could not help but ask. "What do you see when you look at me?"

"To me, you are so many things," Jaime confessed, his voice soft, gentle, and passionate at the same time. "You are my knight in shining armour who saved me from burglars. You are my tax return adviser who understands those goddamn forms so much better than me. You are the person I always turn to when I need advice on a good restaurant. You always help me when I need DIY done, because I am hopeless, but you never complain. You never moan about me, even though I know I can be so annoying. You are the person I love to make laugh. You are the person I want to tell when something funny has happened to me and the person I want to be with when I am hurting. And I want to be that for you too."

"Jaime..." began Brienne, shocked at how tender he was being, but he did not let her finish.

"You are my best friend, the best person in the world," Jaime proclaimed, the words seemingly spilling out of him as he grabbed her shoulders, "but that is not all you are to me. I love you, Brienne, but when I say that I don't just mean as a friend. I love you as a woman. I love you as the woman I touch myself thinking about. I love you as someone I want to take on dates - _nice_ dates too - to fancy restaurants and cinemas and weekends away. I love you as someone I want to marry one day and have babies with, and I want all our children to look like you. Blue eyes, freckles, the works, because I would hate to see you blotted out in my favour. I have loved you so long that it hurts me that you don't want to believe me, because my love for you is the best part of me, the only piece of me that is worth anything..."

If Brienne had found it difficult to tolerate him proclaiming his love, hearing Jaime talk himself down was even worse. "Don't say that," she said admonishingly, reaching out to hold him, "that's not true. You are wonderful, Jaime, you light up any room you are in. I can't imagine my life without you. You are perfect in all the ways you are... just _perfect,_ so don't go believing anything otherwise."

"Not as perfect as you," Jaime insisted, his eyes shining. "Brienne. My wench. My love."

And before she could stop him, Jaime had pulled her in for a kiss and her heart nearly stopped with the shock of it.

Brienne had imagined kissing Jaime many times, but there was always something distorted and strange about it; a pity kiss in the dark, an accidental crash of the lips when they hugged each other awkwardly, a case of mistaken identity. Romantic fantasies had their limits. Brienne had an active imagination, but never in her wildest dreams would she have thought that it was possible for Jaime to be kissing her as he was now, in a way that made her feel deliciously weak. He had pushed her back against the fridge, boxing her in with his body, then licked at the seam of her mouth until she had opened up for him, letting him suck her tongue. Powerless to resist, Brienne had given him what he wanted, holding him close lest he suddenly realised this was madness.

When Jaime finally broke the kiss, he stayed close, gazing at her with stars in his eyes. "I love you, wench."

"I... I... can't believe it," Brienne admitted, bewildered. "I've loved you so long, I didn't think it was possible for you to reciprocate. Not when I am me."

For a brief moment, Jaime looked so sad that she thought he might cry. He managed to brush it off, however, by drawing close enough for a kiss then whispering his devotion. "I vow to fiercely love you in all your forms, now and forever, wench," he proclaimed, his eyes glittering. "I promise to never forget that this is a once in a lifetime love."

It was all so exquisitely too much that Brienne could do nothing but smile against his lips. "You are so cheesy... even when you are sober."

"But you love it though," Jaime purred, rubbing her nose with his.

Unable to stop herself, Brienne lifted her hands and cupped Jaime's face - his beloved face - and beheld him as if he were the most precious thing she had ever laid her hands on. "I love you, Jaime Lannister. And my heart gets a boner when I look at you too."

He looked so happy that Brienne thought she would burst with pride at making him feel that way. "You know, wench..."

"What?"

"That really is a terrible metaphor."

And before she could tell him that it was all his drunken self's fault, Jaime kissed her once more, and she quite forgot about anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you enjoyed that! This one has been so fun to write, so I would love to hear what you thought in the form of comments and kudos!
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	32. Remember Who We Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanting to prove he is over Cersei, Jaime agrees to go on a double date with her and his new girlfriend. Problem is he doesn't have a girlfriend...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks for reading! As I am procrastinating on all my fics at the moment, I hope you enjoy this slice of weirdness. It came to my mind fully formed! Warning: there is a touch of twincest in this one.
> 
> This was born from a prompt by resthefuture who asked for number 49 from the kiss prompts, which was a "short and sweet kiss after meeting up for a date". I hope you like it!

_It is a brilliant plan,_ Jaime told himself over and over again as he waited outside the posh Pentoshi restaurant at the bottom of Aegon's High Hill. _Cersei will realise she's made the wrong choice. Of course she will, how could she not?_

Clutching the bunch of flowers with one hand, Jaime smoothed his suit trousers with the other, trying to give his anxious hands something to do.

_When she sees that someone else wants me, Cersei will realise what a fool she is being and come running right back. Who cares if Robert Baratheon is a famous athlete? I am her brother, her twin... her other half. How can she pick him over me?_

The idea to double date had been Cersei's, of course. She wanted to wield the prospect of her new boyfriend like a sword, razor sharp - _see! I am more than just your reflection_ \- to show Jaime that she didn't need him inside her to feel whole.

 _Fuck her,_ he thought angrily. _I'll show her she's wrong, I'll show her..._

Jaime's angry internal monologue was suddenly interrupted by the sound of heels on the wet pavement. As the steady _click-click_ came closer, he looked up and then nearly fell over at the sight in front of him. The most giant woman he had ever seen was only feet away from him, pulling her leather jacket around her shoulders to keep the cold at bay. In fact, it was only the heeled boot that clued Jaime in on her being a woman; the faded jeans and baggy t-shirt did nothing to help him, nor the face devoid of make-up, splattered with freckles.

 _She does have pretty eyes, though,_ he thought distantly. _A woman's eyes._

When she reached him, the woman smiled at him, showing her crooked teeth. "Are they for me?"

He blinked as realisation set in. " _You_ are Brielle?"

"The one and only," she replied, her smile fading from her face. "You don't have to look so repulsed."

Jaime tried to recover herself. "But Tyrion told me you were an..."

"Escort?" she supplied, unashamed. "Yeah, I am. So give me those 200 dragons and then I'll _consider_ coming on a date with you."

Feeling suitably kowtowed, Jaime reached into his pocket with his free hand to pull out the coins. She accepted them readily, stowing them away into her handbag before he had time to blink.

"So, tell me, how long have we been going out?" she asked, fixing him with a firm and business-like gaze.

Put off, Jaime started stammering. "I don't know... did we meet at work?"

"Where do you work?"

"LannCorp," he confessed. "My father is the CEO."

Brielle let out a hiss of laughter between her teeth, forcing Jaime to look at her plump lips. "Of course, you capitalist destroyer. Okay, you are the big shot executive and I was your Personal Assistant?"

Jaime shook his head. "No, you'll have to know a lot about me and the business for that to work. Why can't you just be my colleague?"

"Because before the night is out, I am going to give at least one lecture on how capitalism needs to be brought down, so it won't feel very authentic," Brielle replied, before pausing to muse on a more persuasive cover story. "We are going to have to have met through friends. Oh! We could have met through Tyrion."

"Cersei knows Tyrion," countered Jaime, without actually disclosing _how_ Cersei knew Tyrion. "She'll tear it apart in a second. How did you meet Tyrion?"

"Through Shae."

"Oh," replied Jaime, his idea dimming at once.

_I can't tell Cersei that I know Brielle through Shae, because then she'll realise in two seconds flat that she is an escort._

_Gods, she would never stop laughing._

Brielle narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you _embarrassed_ to say you met me through Shae?"

"No," he lied. "It is just that Cersei knows Shae too, so would probably put two and two together and work out that you are not my real date."

Conceding his point, Brielle raised her hands in defeat. "Okay, it is going to have to be online dating then. We met through _Fumble_ two months ago. On our first date we went for coffee, the second you took me ice skating, and on the third I gave you a blow job in your car. Happy?"

Shocked that she could talk so casually, Jaime nodded his head, stunned.

"Am I offending you with the way I talk?" asked Brielle, raising an eyebrow almost in mockery. "I am on the job, so I am going to be blunt. In my real life, I am a feminine fainting flower, but there is no room for that here. So, are you happy with that story? Or do you want to change it?"

"Fine," Jaime replied, when he eventually found the breath to speak. "Although... can we switch a few details?"

"Which ones?" she asked, business-like.

His answer came out of his mouth before he had really thought about it. "On the first date we went for a health smoothie, not a coffee; I don't drink caffeinated liquids. On date two, we went roller-skating not ice-skating. There is a rink over on Visenya's Hill that I've always wanted to try out. And on date three... after the blow job, we held hands and kissed, then I fingered you to reciprocate."

To Jaime's surprise, Brielle's cheeks grew red. "Okay. Deal."

Once the verbal contract was signed, Brielle came to stand next to him, gazing out at the rain-drenched road. "So... are we waiting for your ex? Cersei?"

"Yeah," replied Jaime quickly, finding it difficult to talk about his sister when she was not here. "Her and her new boyfriend. It's Robert Baratheon... you know, the striker for the Stormlander Stallions?"

He had thought that would impress her, but Brielle looked entirely nonplussed. "Right. So you, me, your ex-girlfriend, and her star athlete boyfriend are all going on a double date in a very expensive Pentoshi restaurant. Together."

"Yes," said Jaime. "I explained it on the phone, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but there is one thing that is confusing me about this whole situation."

"What?"

"Why the hell _are_ we going on a double date with your ex-girlfriend and her star athlete boyfriend?" she asked, halfway between laughter and incredulity. "Surely this is weird. It feels weird."

Jaime shrugged and dropped his eyes to the floor. "Cersei and I have an... _interesting_ relationship. To be honest, I think this is all a game on her part to prove that she doesn't need me, doesn't want me. Cersei believes me seeing her here with Robert will make me all contrite and jealous, and then I'll crawl back to her on hands and knees. You are here to show her different."

"Well, we'd better make this convincing then," replied Brielle, turning to face him once more. "If we are going to show her this is real, you'd better give me those flowers. They are for me, aren't they?"

In truth, Jaime had not really decided. Part of him wanted to rub the fact that he could give flowers to other women if he wanted to in Cersei's smug face; another wanted to give them to his sister to show her that he could love her in a way Robert never could. "Of course, they are yours."

"Great," Brielle said, taking them from him. "I'm glad they are not roses."

Jaime looked at her confusedly. "Why?"

"Roses are so cliché," she claimed, even as a dark shadow crossed her eyes. "These are more original."

He did not probe the question any further.

Just then, it started to rain, cold and quick. Brielle backed up towards the restaurant, shielding herself by holding the flowers close to her chest. "Where are they? It is getting cold. Why are they both running late?"

"It is Cersei's way," Jaime said, even as he shucked off his jacket to put around Brielle's shoulders, over her leather jacket. It was stupid but gentlemanly "She likes us all to wait on her. She likes everyone to believe she is a queen and that we are all in her service."

 _Except me,_ he thought. _I am special._

Cersei herself confirmed that analysis a few moments later when a sleek black taxi pulled up, Her Royal Highness only getting out when Robert Baratheon opened the door for her. When she stood up to her full height, Jaime's breath caught in her throat. His sister looked every inch the queen in her red dress and her fur coat, her blonde hair curled, her cheeks rouged, and her lips plump and kissable. Suddenly, Jaime regretted every foul thing he had said to her when they had last seen each other. He wanted to take her home and tell her he was sorry, and that he would make it all right again. He promised.

"Brother," Cersei said, drawing closer. In Jaime's mind, it sounded strangely like _lover._ "You've met Robert, of course."

"Of course," replied Jaime stiffly, reluctantly shaking the big man's hand when he extended it towards him. "You haven't met Brielle though."

Cersei's eyes were on Jaime's date in an instant, predatorial and hungry. "No, I don't believe I've had the pleasure. We should get inside before it starts raining though. I don't want to spoil my hair."

Thinking that was an eminently sensible suggestion, Jaime went to put his hand on the small of Cersei's back, but Robert beat him to it. Floundering, Jaime did not know what to do, until Brielle looped her arm through his. "You are going to have to help me order my food. I've never been to a posh place like this."

"It is easy enough," he shrugged. "All these types of restaurant try to make their food as pretentious as possible, when really it is all quite simple. It's all edible in the end."

Brielle let out a little giggle at that summation, which Jaime thought was a sweet enough sound to want to capture and stick in a bottle. He tried to hold onto it for a short while longer by telling her a silly story about the time he and his brother Tyrion went to try sushi at an authentic YiTi restaurant as kids, so by the time they had sat down and the waiter had taken her flowers away to be put in water, Brielle was still laughing.

"What are you going to eat?" asked Cersei loudly, cutting across Brielle's chuckling. "I'm thinking of going for the Squid Ink Salad."

"It will be the pork belly for me," confessed Robert. "And a beer."

"I might have the beer too," piped up Brielle.

Cersei looked distinctly unimpressed. "That's not very ladylike, is it?"

"I don't really care," countered Brielle quickly. "I like beer, so I will drink it if I want to."

Impressed that Brielle had not completely withered in the face of Cersei's hostility, Jaime smiled at her. "I'll join you in having a beer too. It will go nicely with my steak."

Before long, the waiter returned to take their orders, and then they were interrupted by fans of Robert's on the next table who insisted on having photos taken with him. While he was distracted, Cersei turned her laser eyes onto Brielle once more. "So, Brienne, where did you meet Jaime?"

For the first time since he had met her, Brielle seemed wrongfooted. "My name is Brielle. _Brielle."_

"Sorry," replied Cersei, not sounding very sorry at all. "How did you meet Jaime?"

Back on safe ground, Brielle went through the script as they had rehearsed it. "We met online. For a first date we went to a smoothie place, because Jaime doesn't drink caffeine. On the second, he took me roller-skating. And on the third... well, we just spent some time together."

Cersei's mouth twisted in displeasure. "What does that mean?"

"It means," interjected Jaime, doing an impression of a cat who had got the cream. "She sucked me off in my car." While he was expecting Cersei's positively venomous expression that followed, Brielle's embarrassed blush surprised him. She was an escort. Wasn't she the one celebrating the virtues of bluntness outside? Sensing her disquiet, Jaime tried to rectify things. "We held hands afterwards though. It was very sweet."

As if to prove a point, Jaime linked his fingers with Brielle's. Cersei went a very angry red. Luckily for all three of them, Robert Baratheon chose that moment to return to the table. Oblivious to the whole situation, Robert started regaling them with the stories of his sporting career he had clearly just been telling his fans. While Brielle listened with something approaching interest, Cersei just kept shooting daggers at Jaime. As for him, he just kept holding Brielle's hand; partly to annoy Cersei, but mostly for the warmth of his date's palm. By the time the food came over, Robert had not quite finished his stories, and was only interrupted by his phone ringing.

"Who's that?" asked Cersei suspiciously.

Robert looked a little guilty. "It's... err... my manager."

Cersei tutted angrily. "Like hell it is."

"I've just got to answer the phone," said Robert, already crossing the room to head for the door. "I'll be back in a minute."

Without another word, Robert exited the restaurant, leaving Cersei to furiously stew in her own rage. Jaime could not help but have a poke. "Why are you even going out with him?" he asked cruelly. "You don't even have to follow football to know he bangs everything in a skirt."

Cersei retorted with the one thing that she knew would hurt him most. "Father is pleased. In his eyes, Robert is a thousand times better for me that you."

"Our father has never cared much for our happiness, Cersei." Jaime did not quite appreciate what he had said out loud until he heard Brielle choke on her beer in the chair beside him. Anxious that he would now have to explain _something_ to Brielle about his and Cersei's relationship, he tried to brush his blunder aside. "And if he never cared, maybe you should do what feels right in your heart."

Cersei slammed her fork down on the table. "And maybe _you_ should shut your big mouth, Jaime. You sound like a madman. I am going to powder my nose." Not caring how she looked to Brielle or anyone else, Cersei copied Robert's playbook and stormed from the table towards the ladies, leaving Jaime quite alone with his dinner and his date.

The silence seemed to go on forever.

"So... " said Brielle eventually, pouring herself more beer. "She's your sister. You didn't tell me _that_ when you told me on the phone that you wanted to prove to an ex you were over her."

Jaime ground his teeth together. He hated that she was so bold in her attempt to disarm him. "Yep, Cersei is my sister. Do I disgust you yet? Normally it is at this point that my dates tell me I am a disgusting foul reprobate for being in love with my sister. My _twin_ sister. So, go on. Say it. I'm a sick fuck."

Expecting that same stinging taunt he had heard a thousand times before, Brielle just gazed at him with those big blue eyes that seemed to see into his soul. "Nah, I haven't got the energy to judge you. I take money to help little guys feel bigger, and bigger guys feel not so lonely. I see it every day; we are all just reaching out for a connection. We don't get to choose who we love."

Jaime's breath caught in his throat. That was the very thing he had told Cersei when he had begged her to move to Braavos with him; to start a new life as husband and wife, where no one would know they were siblings. And here was Brielle, an _escort_ found by Jaime's womanising little brother, not judging him over losing himself in this bottomless love for Cersei.

It was a bit too much.

Before long, Cersei came back, her hair immaculate. Still staring angrily at the door that Robert had gone through, she did not seem interested in talking to Brielle or Jaime, so she just kept sipping her wine. Her disinterest left Jaime free to talk to Brielle.

"So, favourite football team?" he asked when the main course finally arrived.

Brielle shook her head as if the answer was obvious. "Tarth Troopers. I can't betray the motherland. What about you?"

"Lannisport Lions, my father owns them," he smiled, trying not to sound smug. "What is your favourite sport other than football?"

"Table tennis, it takes grace and precision. Favourite actor?"

"Arthur Dayne, his action films are legendary."

She nodded in agreement. "Best films ever. Are you a bigger fan of _The Kingsguard: Part II_ or _Tower of Joy?"_

" _Tower of Joy_ ," answered Jaime, not having any doubts. "Although _Kingsguard_ has that absolutely epic helicopter chase, _Tower of Joy_ has the emotional pathos and the love story."

Brielle raised an intrigued eyebrow at him. "Oh? You like a love story, do you? I bet you saw _Pretty Wench_ five times when it came out at the cinema."

"Six," replied Jaime, unashamed. "The bit with the fire escape makes me cry."

Before they could discuss any more thirty-year-old rom-coms, Robert Baratheon entered the restaurant once more and sat down opposite Brielle. "Oh! Has my pork belly turned up?"

"Where the hell have you been?" snapped Cersei, not caring that she was speaking so loudly that the people at the next table were looking at her. "Your dinner is getting cold."

Robert did not even look slightly abashed. "I had a call from my manager, didn't I?"

"Your manager?" replied Cersei, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. "Or was it that fucking female physio I told you to get rid of because you are always asking her to touch you up!"

"Cers..."

"No, Robert! I..."

Fixed on watching Cersei and Robert air their every problem out in the open, Jaime was only pulled back into something approaching normality when Brielle tapped him on the shoulder. "Didn't this happen in _Kill Bob?"_

"What?"

"The screaming catfights," she smiled, when Jaime finally looked her in the eye. "If somebody gets bloodily stabbed next, I'll know this is straight out of a Quentyn Tarantino film."

Jaime could not help but laugh, which only made Cersei stop shouting at Robert and turn back to look at her brother. "I don't know," confessed Jaime, his eyes on Brielle. "To be honest, I am not a fan of the gory stuff."

"But you like Arthur Dayne's films?"

"I like the heroes and the white knights," he confessed as he cut up his expensive steak. "I like to believe there is hope in the world."

Brielle's eyes seemed full of stars. "So do I."

Sensing that she did not have his attention, Cersei slammed her fist down on the table. "Jaime, I want to go home after we have finished this course. Robert has upset me... so you can drop me back at my apartment."

"Oh for fuck's sake," grumbled Robert. "And I thought we were here to have a nice meal."

"You ruined it," countered Cersei, her green eyes still on her twin; burning and beautiful. "So, Jaime. Will you take me home? Please?"

Without her saying the words, Jaime knew what she meant. After they had all finished their main course, Jaime would take Cersei back to her apartment and spend the rest of the weekend fucking her on every surface in the building. While it remained an appealing prospect, Jaime did not want to abandon Brielle; not when she had made what he had thought would be an awful date tolerable. Searching for an answer to his conundrum, he turned to look at her.

"Take her home if you want, Jaime," said Brielle, waving a conciliatory hand. "Just let me finish my dinner first." Thinking that was a reasonable condition, Jaime forced Cersei and Robert to stay at the table until Brielle was quite finished, and he had paid her bill for her.

"Oh, you don't have to," she began, "you already paid..."

"I want to," Jaime replied, smiling at her. "You paid for the roller-skating, remember?"

Brielle blushed so convincingly at his fake reminder that Jaime almost believed their fictitious blooming feelings were real. Once outside, however, it again became clear that this remained a game he was playing with Cersei, not a real date, no matter how pretty Brielle's eyes were. She was just a pawn.

"I am sorry, Cers," said Robert reluctantly. "I shouldn't have phoned my manager in the middle of the date. I want to make it right."

Then before Cersei could object, Robert pulled her close for a kiss. At first, Jaime's twin was horrified but, perhaps remembering that he was watching her, Cersei eventually threw herself into the kiss with a kind of fiery passion that Jaime thought she reserved for him alone. He would have stared at the horrible sight all night, if it wasn't for Brielle. Tugging his hand, she turned him round to face her, and before Jaime knew what she was doing, Brielle had lifted both her hands to cup his face and draw him into a kiss. Their own kiss. It almost took Jaime's breath away, as it was sweet and slow and quite unlike anything that Cersei had ever given him.

When Brielle pulled back, her eyes were the only light in the world.

"I'll call you," he said, his words falling on her lips just as his kiss had. "Tomorrow."

She smiled at him sadly. "Thanks for tonight, but... you've got to remember who we are."

 _Oh,_ he thought. _She's right._

_I am Jaime and she is Brielle. I am a sister-fucker and she is an escort._

_We must remember who we are._

_Jaime, Jaime. Rhymes with blame me._

Consequently, when the time came to say goodbye, Jaime let Brielle go without any objections.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! As ever, I would love to hear what you think in the form of comments and kudos :)
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	33. No Net Ensnares Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne comes to Casterly Rock to be the new governess for Tommen and Myrcella, but she has to deal with their infuriating father and strange noises in the attic...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much coming back! This one was prompted by lovelylittlewren who asked for number 46 off the "short fic" prompt list:
> 
> 46) nanny/single parent au
> 
> Also, some lines stolen from Charlotte Brontë. You know where this is going.

Although the sun had already set, Tommen would not go to sleep until Brienne had sung him his third song.

"But Miss Tarth!" he objected when Brienne made to leave the room. "Ser Pounce has not had _his_ favourite song yet. How can you expect him to sleep?"

As if to voice his agreement, the little cat curled up besides Tommen purred. Miss Tarth smiled, even as she shot a furtive look at the old grandfather clock.

 _There's still time,_ she told herself. _It is not too late._

Even though she could hear the music downstairs, Brienne felt obliged to make the little boy happy. He had had so little happiness in his short life, after all. Although her skirts were large and voluminous, Brienne perched down on his bed, trying not to disturb Ser Pounce. "And what is Ser Pounce's favourite song, Master Lannister?"

" _The Bear and the Maiden Fair,_ of course!" Tommen grinned, unable to keep his excitement hidden.

"You surprise me," Brienne grinned. "I would have thought you would pick _The Rains of Castamere._ "

Tommen wrinkled his nose. "Why? That's a scary song."

"It's your family song," Brienne reminded him. "Your grandfather's song."

"It's still scary," Tommen insisted, running his chubby little fingers through Ser Pounce's fur.

In spite of his childish pout, Brienne supposed Tommen was right. Tywin Lannister had used his position as Lord Paramount of the Westerlands with ruthless efficiency and _The Rains of Castamere_ only commemorated that. He had made use of the new railway technology to insist a trainline be built from King's Landing to Lannisport. Once in place, he set his people to work in the mines under Casterly Rock, bringing to the surface as much coal - or black gold, as he called it - as possible. Only the Vale could rival the Westerlands for the amount of coal it produced, which powered the miserable mills and forsaken factories, but at least Lord Jon Arryn did not exploit his own people in the cold and dark mines the way Tywin Lannister did. Tywin's ruthlessness was legendary, as was the easy way he dealt with his business rivals; the Reynes and Tarbecks knew all too well. Given the reputation sung of in _The Rains of Castamere_ , Brienne had therefore been quite nervous when she had received an answer from Tywin to her note in the _King's Landing Chronicle_ newspaper advertising her service as a governess. Although the Tarth name had once been great, it had fallen on hard times, so after her father's death Brienne had been obliged to find some way to support herself. It was not as if she was ever going to find herself a husband, after all, given the way she looked. Therefore, she had found herself taking the train to Casterly Rock to look after Tywin's two younger grandchildren; Myrcella and Tommen.

From the minute she had met them, Brienne had been instantly aware that the two children hungered for family. Myrcella was a sweet girl of ten, who was confident in sewing and singing, painting and poetry, but hid a shadow behind her eyes. Yet, because of her ability to pretend, Brienne thought that, one day, she would make a very accomplished young lady. Tommen was a more rambunctious lad of eight, who only seemed interested in eating sweets and his cats. In the evenings, Brienne often found herself reading him stories, even though she had only really been brought in to help their children with their education; High Valyrian for Tommen, needlework for Myrcella. But when they begged her for affection, how could Brienne say no? Their father had been away in the colonies, their elder brother at boarding school, and their mother was apparently long dead.

They were children. They needed love. Brienne was willing to give it to them.

"Alright, Master Lannister," smiled Brienne, "I won't sing you _The Rains of Castamere. The Bear and the Maiden Fair_ it is!"

"Yay!" cried Tommen, scaring Ser Pounce into jumping off the bed and running to the pillow in the corner were Boots and Lady Whiskers were curled up together. " _The Bear and the Maiden Fair!"_

"Hush, Master Lannister," said Brienne gently, smoothing his golden fringe out of his eyes. "I will only sing if you lay down and close your eyes, it is time to sleep."

Tommen obeyed at once - he was an amiable child - so Brienne settled her hands and began to sing.

" _A bear, there was, a bear, a bear..._ "

The song was so familiar to her that Brienne could sing without thinking; the words just rolling off her tongue. Washed away by the melody, she found her mind drifting to other things... much more pleasant things.

_Mr Jaime Lannister in his new suit..._

She had not liked Mr Lannister at first. After Lord Tywin left on business, Brienne had been close to abandoned in the West Wing of Casterly Rock with Myrcella, Tommen, and the strange noises in the attic that she dare not investigate for months and months before Mr Jaime Lannister finally made his appearance.

"Is that a woman?" he had asked the under butler when he first saw her across the room, his lips locked in a snarl.

"That is Miss Tarth," the answer came. "The children's new governess."

Curious, he had stepped forward to look at her, his eyes a map of every place he had ever been. Brienne could only swallow nervously. His gaze washed over her, a burning light within; it was strangely predatorial. Notwithstanding his rudeness, Brienne could not help but notice he was ethereally handsome, with that shining golden halo of hair and those moss-green eyes. An angel, in spite of all the bad rumours that surrounded him.

"Turn around," he had ordered, twirling his hand in the air.

She had blushed. "Why?"

"I want to see you."

Brienne had pressed her mouth into an irritated line as he smirked at her. "Excuse me, _ser._ I may be a poor, obscure, plain, and little governess, but I am not your toy. You pay me to look after your children, not twirl around for you like some painted doll in a music box."

For a brief moment, Brienne had thought Mr Jaime Lannister looked impressed at her firm resistance, but then it quickly passed when he began to laugh. "Who said anything about you being _little?_ "

Embarrassed, Brienne had retreated from the room, determined not to speak to him at all, but that had soon proved impossible. During the day she felt as if she were stuck in a labyrinth, the blond haired Minotaur mere rooms away, ready to devour her. As he paced around his study with the door open, writing letters, she would catch sight of him out of the corner of her eye as she helped Myrcella with her needlework.

He shone. He smirked.

 _He's despicable,_ Brienne would tell herself, just so she did not forget. _Despicable._

And yet even when Mr Jaime Lannister was not in sight, Brienne felt his presence. As Lord Tywin was often away, Miss Tarth soon found she was Mr Lannister's only company in the evening. They would sit in front of the fire together, Mr Lannister drinking glass of wine after glass of wine, talking and talking, while Brienne would remain silent.

"Tell me about Tarth," he ordered, his perfect countenance bathed in orange light.

"It is known as the Sapphire Isle," Brienne replied stiffly.

"Why?"

"For the blue of its waters."

Mr Lannister had tilted his head in surprise. "Oh? You surprise me."

"Why?" Brienne had asked, mimicking his earlier questions.

"I doubt the waters are the bluest thing on Tarth."

Confused, Brienne had tried to explain away the popular myth. "There are no _actual_ sapphire mines there. That is just a legend. Untrue, of course, or I would be much richer than I am."

Although she was not exactly a witty person, Brienne expected Mr Lannister to laugh at her joke. However, he just narrowed his perfect eyes at her, making a strange thrill run up her spine. "I was not speaking of the sapphires, Miss Tarth."

Not brave enough to ask him what he _was_ speaking of, Brienne had looked into the fire and committed herself to a dutiful silence.

" _The bear, the bear, and the maiden fair.._."

As Brienne finished her song, she was gratified to see that Tommen had fallen asleep, letting out huffing little breaths. Leaning forward, she pecked a quick kiss on his forehead, before turning around to blow out the candle beside his bed. After straightening her skirts, Brienne left the room, trying to ignore the sounds of the howling wind and the creaking coming from the attic.

 _There's still time,_ she told herself, _still time._

Two moons ago, Miss Margaery Tyrell had started calling on Casterly Rock. She had come to the Westerlands for the air, and wanted to make _friends,_ as she put it. Rich, handsome, widowed Jaime Lannister was just the sort of _friend_ she wanted, so Brienne was forced to sit in as a chaperone on her endless visits. Miss Tyrell would play the piano and make eyes at Mr Lannister and he would smile back. The pair of them would then walk around the gardens, arm in arm, forcing Brienne to walk two paces behind listening to their inane conversations.

"Oh, isn't the weather at the Rock simply wonderful?"

"Do you like flower-pressing, Mr Lannister? I have a wonderful collection from Highgarden back at home."

"You must meet my brother Loras. I am sure you will get on brilliantly."

As Brienne traipsed after them in mute silence, she would tell herself over and over that there was no point in being jealous. It was not as if Mr Lannister was even polite to her at the best of times, so why did she feel as if she wanted to rip Miss Tyrell's eyeballs out and throw her into the ornamental pond?

What were a few stolen conversations around a fire? Really? What were a few burning gazes?

Yet, even in spite of all the practical things Brienne repeatedly told herself, after Mr Lannister had promised Miss Tyrell a ball in Casterly Rock's grand reception room, he still approached Brienne after her rival had departed, a strange look in his eye.

"Miss Tarth, may I speak to you for a moment?"

She straightened her spine, not wanting to be intimidated. "Of course, Mr Lannister. Is it about Master Lannister's High Valyrian classes?"

Surprised, he shook his beautiful head and let out a gravelly laugh. "No, it is not about Tommen's High Valyrian classes."

"Then what, sir?"

Mr Lannister smiled at her, in a way that Brienne often mistook for a smirk. "Will you be coming to the ball?"

Brienne blinked dumbly, totally disarmed by his question.

"Miss Tarth," he chuckled, easily as he normally did. "Does my inquiry surprise you?"

Not knowing what he wanted, Brienne dropped her eyes to the floor. "Of course, Mr Lannister. I did not know the servants were allowed to attend..."

"You are not a servant, Miss Tarth."

She looked up at him, straight into those unnerving green eyes that made her feel quite weak. "Am I not?"

"No," he replied, stepping forward close enough so she could feel his hot breath on her face. "You are my children's governess, the closest person they have to a mother, so it would be entirely fitting if you came to the ball."

Brienne did not realise her heart had been hammering in her chest until her stomach swooped at his choice of word. _Fitting._ It sounded strangely formal in his mouth; the same mouth that had declared he was not talking of sapphire mines. In spite of the fact that there was a chance Mr Lannister was just trying to be ingratiating, Brienne suspected he meant to torment her. Consequently, she decided to answer him without a hint of emotion in her voice.

"I did not plan to. I have nothing suitable to wear."

At her statement, Mr Lannister's eyes rolled over her in a way that made her feel naked. "What is wrong with this dress?"

Brienne looked down at it. When she had arrived at Casterly Rock, Lord Tywin had insisted her clothes were not suitable to wear in front of his grandchildren, so had this blue one made by Donyse, the seamstress. It was the best dress she had ever owned, but it was still workaday and that of a servant. It looked plain and drab in comparison to Mr Lannister's tailored Stormlander suits.

"Nothing is wrong with it," Brienne said lightly, "and I am very grateful for it. It is just I am not an elegant young woman who can turn up at a ball wearing this..."

Mr Lannister did not let her finish whatever objection he was about to make. "Blue is a good colour on you, Miss Tarth. It goes well with your eyes."

As if to compliment her dress, Brienne's cheeks burned a fiery pink. She hated herself for it, especially as she could feel his eyes on her. The gods really were cruel to her by letting him torment her so. "Mr Lannister, I..."

"You are coming to the ball and that is final," he insisted. "So make sure you wear that dress and bring your dance card with you."

So that was how Brienne found herself leaving Tommen's bedroom and descending the grand staircase at Casterly Rock, her dance card clutched in her hand. With every step she took, the music from the reception room grew louder. It was a lilting waltz, the type reserved for romantic heroes and their beautiful ladies in novels.

_I wonder whether he would want to dance with me._

When Brienne finally reached the ballroom, she edged inside, and stayed clinging to the wall. The room was crowded and filled with Lord Tywin's business associates from King's Landing, bannermen and their families, and dozens of pretty young women who wanted a chance with the heir to Casterly Rock. And at the centre was the best of them; Miss Margaery Tyrell. She was wearing a perfectly cut dress of green silk, embroidered with the golden flower emblem of her house. Her hair was plaited with pink forget-me-knots and her cheeks were rouged in such a subtle way that it appeared natural.

Unsurprisingly, she was in Jaime Lannister's arms.

When Brienne came to a standstill at the corner of the room, she could only watch as Mr Lannister and Miss Tyrell waltzed their way across the ballroom. Everyone else had given them space to do so by forming a neat circle around the room, allowing the pair of them the floor on which to float. Together, they looked as if they were meant to be; Mr Lannister was all strong formation and straight lines, while Miss Tyrell was a beautiful decoration. The sight was like a knife in Brienne's gut.

 _I can never be that,_ she thought. _Just the ugly governess in the plain dress._

As the pair of them twirled in front of her, Mr Lannister lifted his gaze from Miss Tyrell's perfect face and caught Brienne's eye. The stare was hot and yearning, setting off a strange spark inside the ugly governess' well-shielded heart.

 _No, that glance was just mis-aimed,_ Brienne told herself. _He meant to look at Miss Tyrell that way._

Yet every time the spin of the dance allowed him, Mr Lannister would look Brienne's way, the flash of his eye matching the green of Miss Tyrell's dress. In spite of everything she knew about herself and everything she feared about him, Brienne's heart thudded in her chest, just as it did when they sat around the fire in the evenings, talking in a way that was almost cryptic.

It was suddenly far, far too hot.

_Gods, I have to get out of here._

Lifting the hem of her skirt slightly so she could move quickly, Brienne went to turn away. However, at that moment, the music came to a stop. Unable to resist, Brienne looked over her shoulder back at Mr Lannister. Once again, he caught her eye, but instead of holding her gaze, he broke it in favour of kissing Miss Tyrell on the cheek then whispering something in her ear so scandalous it made her blush. His mouth was so close to Miss Tyrell's skin that it was almost another kiss.

 _Fool,_ Brienne thought. _Fool. Fool. Fool._

She was running before she could stop herself, dropping her dance card on the way.

_Fool. Fool. Fool. When he first saw me, he mistook me for a man, and now dances with Miss Tyrell. Not me, never me; the ugly governess in the plain dress... ugly, ugly, ugly..._

As she reached the top of the grand staircase, Brienne thought she heard a voice - "Miss Tarth! Miss Tarth!" - but she ignored it entirely in favour of running as fast as she could back to her room. It was small and dark, with no decent view of Casterly Rock's garden, but it was hers and she could be safe in here. There was that at least. Once inside, Brienne slammed the door behind her and then locked it tight. Breathing heavily, she moved around the room, hurriedly peeling off the dress that he had lied to her about.

 _It becomes me, indeed!_ she thought scornfully. _A cruel joke, and I was too dim to see it._

The moment she was free of her sartorial shackles, Brienne laid down on her bed as naked as her nameday. Her skin felt hot, because she was imagining things that no decent woman should ever think of; roving hands, stolen kisses, filthy words, and the idea of just being taken by an unruly hateful man who had the most enchanting green eyes. Closing her eyes, Brienne wondered how heavy Mr Lannister would be if he just laid down on top of her, his hot, sweaty skin sliding against her own. What would he taste like? How would his lips meet with hers? How would he touch her? Would he teach her to touch him?

_Jaime..._

Brienne's hand was just slipping down her stomach in its quest to _do_ something about the ache between her thighs that was inspired by him when she froze, her ears pricking up.

There were noises coming from the attic...

And they sounded like footsteps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! As ever, I would love to hear what you think in the form of comments and kudos. This one has been so much fun to write :)
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	34. Drink That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After running into each other at rehab ten years after they divorced, Jaime and Brienne decide to talk things through...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks so much for coming back to this story! This one is the third part in the Divorce AU series following [Sign Here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/56527729) and  
> [Take This](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/57315685). 
> 
> This is from a prompt from lovelylittlewren who asked "for the addiction prompt, i would love to see a follow up showing brienne's struggle to stay clean and how jaime plays into that. i love your writing so i'd love to see anything you end up writing for it!". I have had more prompts for this story too, so there are more chapters to come with this one. I hope you enjoy.
> 
> PS. I am currently a bit behind on answering comments, but I will get there soon!

After Jaime had made sure Brienne was allocated to a new counsellor at Shade Scheme, he asked her if she wanted to go out for a coffee with him.

"Oh no," she mumbled, shaking her head. "You don't have to..."

"I _want_ to," he replied ardently, interlocking her fingers with his. "We were friends once and we haven't seen each other for ten years. I want to catch up with you... discover what you have been doing for the last decade. Will you let me have that, at least?"

Brienne bit her lip. The last time she and Jaime had spoken, _properly_ spoken, he had knelt down between her legs in a bathroom cubicle, made her come, then begged her forgiveness on hands and knees. She had refused him, of course, because her heart had been too broken, too sore at his lies, at the years of deceit she had unknowingly lived. Yet, Jaime was seemingly not thinking of that time, as he was smiling at her in the way he used to when things were simple. Brienne could not help but soften his expression.

In spite of her traitorous heart, she still hesitated.

"I promise it won't be awkward," he said reassuringly. "I'll even wait for you if you want to go and redo your make-up in the bathroom. It would just be... _nice_ to catch up."

Brienne wanted to fight back against that argument. Nothing had ever been _nice_ about her relationship with Jaime; it had been a complicated, confusing, stressful, passionate, hilarious, joyous, transcendent, heart-breaking mess, every single moment of it. Never once had their relationship been _nice._

Although she had her doubts, Brienne found herself nodding, and covering her blue lips with her hand.

"Alright, I will just be a moment."

Escaping his gravitational pull, Brienne made her way to the toilets where she splashed her face with water, before digging out her eyeliner and lipstick in order to beautify herself. The latter had almost reached her mouth when she froze, gazing at her _Shade-of-the-Evening_ blue lips in the mirror.

 _I can't hide who I am with lipstick,_ she thought, _not from him._

_And why should I be embarrassed? I am a drug addict; he is a sister fucker._

_I should be the one looking down on_ him.

_Not loving him. Not still loving him._

Wanting to be nakedly honest with him in a kind of confrontational way, Brienne put her make-up away and then dried her face. In weaponising her emotional nudity, she wanted to make him flinch when she revealed her scars and made him see how fucked up her life was.

"And it is all your fault, Jaime," she muttered. "It is all your fault."

By the time she appeared back outside the bathroom, Brienne thought she looked as self-composed as it was possible to be considering her lips were tell-tale blue. In spite of her confidence in her mode of presentation, she expected Jaime to be horrified that she would be so bold and had made no attempt to hide her addiction, and would subsequently refuse to be seen out in public with her.

It was therefore quite surprising when he made no sarcastic comment at her appearance, no jibe, but just smiled at her quite radiantly in the way he had when they were in love.

"I think we should go to _Cerwyn Coffee_ ," he said. "It is just around the corner."

Brienne nodded and let him take her hand once more. "Okay. That sounds nice."

 _Nice_ was taking her seat by the window of _Cerwyn Coffee_ as she waited for Jaime to bring her a coffee. _Nice_ was checking her phone and realising Renly had not called to invite her to an all-night rave. _Nice_ was not having a Shade dealer on her tail begging for money.

What _nice_ wasn't, however, was sitting in front of Jaime and trying to casually chat about something other than the obvious.

"An Americano with sugar for you," he said, putting the coffee down in front of her. "And a non-fat Frappuccino with Extra Whipped Cream and Chocolate Sauce for me."

Brienne could not help but look up into those haunting green eyes of his, touched. "You remembered my order?"

He shrugged. "Of course. Just as you would have remembered mine."

With that acknowledgement of what she was like, Brienne felt as if he had peeled a small piece of her armour away. Consequently, when he sat down, Brienne started chugging her coffee down to hide her weakness. It was better than looking at him, anyway.

"So," Jaime said eventually, finally deciding to break the tension. "How has it been these last ten years for you?"

She tried to look nonchalant. "Not great. You?"

"Alright I suppose," he replied. As she watched him, he picked up his coffee and took a swig, leaving a moustache of whipped cream above his top lip. Noticing at once, Jaime licked it away in one long, languid swipe of his tongue, which Brienne found strangely irritating. She had wanted to lick it away herself.

"Why?" she asked, attempting to distract him from the heat in her cheeks. "Is the sex not that great when you fuck your sister?"

"I told you. I don't do that anymore... I haven't for a very long time... since before we got together..."

"Oh right, because you didn't want me to see the bad side of you, I remember."

"Correct," Jaime replied, trying to keep his voice level. "We can't all be unshakeably unashamed of ourselves as you are, Brienne."

At that summation of her character, Brienne could not help but laugh, harsh and bitter. "It is like you never knew me at all. I've spent every day of my life ashamed."

To her immense surprised, Jaime looked confused. "Why?"

"We can't all be beautiful and golden with no problems in our lives," she said, her words wistful when she had meant them to be cutting. "Some of us are mere mortals."

"Like me, you mean?" he retorted, a nasty bite in his tone. Maybe he was spoiling for a fight.

"Like you, yes," Brienne conceded. "You are so handsome, that people would have even forgiven you for the incest."

In an echo of her earlier release of tension, Jaime laughed. It was as black as her coffee. " _You_ did not forgive me, and you were the only person who mattered."

 _Were._ Brienne was not aware that a tense could make a word sting so sharply.

"It was not that I didn't forgive you..."

"Then what was it?" he asked, sounding tightly wound. "I got down on my knees in that sodding bathroom and begged you to listen in the only way I knew how, the only way I thought would make you understand, and you could not even find it in your heart to give me a chance to explain. Why, Brienne? Did I really mean that little to you?"

In spite of all her attempts to be unfriendly and to keep her heart well concealed, Brienne could feel the tears behind her eyes. "Of course not."

"Then what was it?"

Brienne shook her head. "Why does it matter now? It has been ten years."

"Because I want to know why," Jaime declared ardently. "I should have told you the truth about Cersei and the kids, I know, but I need to know if there is anything that I could have done at the time to make you want to stay with me... even after you knew the truth."

As she was always a weak, stupid person when it came to him, a tear rolled down Brienne's cheek that she angrily brushed it away. "No, there was nothing you could have done."

"Did you not have enough love in your heart for me to let me explain?" Jaime looked crestfallen. "Or did your disgust for me outweigh that love?"

"You did not disgust me," Brienne admitted. How could a sun god disgust her? How could she be repelled by her beautiful, lovely Jaime? "It was not that..."

"Then what?" he asked, his tone begging as he reached across the table and grabbed her hand. "What was it?"

_It was that she was beautiful and fertile, while I was ugly and barren. In what world would you have ever picked me?_

Yet Brienne was not brave enough to say that out loud, so she pulled her hand away from him and looked down at her coffee. "How are your children? Joffrey must be what... twenty, twenty-two by now?"

The moment for truth having passed, Jaime just nodded at her and took a sip of his own drink. "Yes... he's twenty three. As far as I know, he works as some sort of bank in the city which allows him to be ruthless and generally screw people over. Myrcella now lives in Dorne, she's an actress on a telenovela there. And Tommen's just gone to University... Highgarden, I believe."

There was something sufficiently vague in those descriptions that made Brienne feel a little concerned at where life had led Jaime, but nevertheless she pushed ahead with her line of questioning. "And Cersei," asked Brienne, even as she felt a knife twisting in her belly. "How is she?"

At her question, Jaime latched his perfect green eyes straight onto her blue ones, as if he was trying to tell her something without words. "After you left me, I cut her out of my life. I didn't want to be reminded of what I had done, what my past had cost me."

Brienne's mouth dropped open in surprise. "But what about your _children_? Surely you wanted to be in their lives. Be..."

"No," he interjected, cutting across her. "Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen are Robert Baratheon's children. The most input I have had into their lives is a splash of semen."

That confession wrongfooted Brienne entirely.

"But... but..." she stammered, searching his face for a sign of the truth. "I know how much you wanted to be a father."

"To _your_ children, wench," Jaime confessed, sounding choked. "I wanted a life and a family with you. And if I couldn't have that? Well, I didn't want anything else... at least, not for some time."

There was a strange shadow behind Jaime's eyes at that last statement, but Brienne did not try to chase it. Instead, she just tried not to look sad. "I suppose that was why I started drinking Shade of the Evening. I didn't have what I wanted, so I often pretended I was elsewhere rather than face the truth."

"Where did you go?" Jaime asked gently, all pretence at distance now gone. "All Shade drinkers have visions. Where did you go?"

Brienne was a little embarrassed to admit the truth to Jaime, but she now felt so emotionally naked that another confession could not hurt her.

"I went to your arms, Jaime. Your arms."

Although Brienne had spoken so softly it could have been a sweet, chaste kiss, a groan escaped Jaime's lips halfway between a sigh and a sob, that to her ears sounded feral and almost sexual. "Wench, what the fuck are we doing?"

"What we've always done," she said lightly, trying not to blush. "Torment each other in the best and worst ways. Did you really think that would have changed after ten years, divorce, and Shade of the Evening?"

"The Shade of the Evening doesn't have to be permanent. We can get you off that, together," Jaime declared, without a shadow of a doubt.

 _And what about the divorce?_ she mused. _Does that have to be permanent too?_

"I want to try," she confessed. "I want to get clean."

This time she did not shake his hand away when he intertwined their fingers. "I'll help you. Where are you living?"

"A flat over in Flea Bottom. It is a bit of a dump, but at least it is only a short-term lease."

"At the end of it, move out," instructed Jaime. It was clear he had once been a rich boy; there was little space for practicalities. "I have a spare room. You can crash there while you are going through your recovery process, and I will be there every step of the way to help you. I _want_ to help you, because you deserve the best life, wench. The best life."

He was being so sweet considering everything that had happened, that Brienne almost wanted to cry. "Why are you being so kind?"

When Jaime smiled at her, there was unsurprisingly something immensely sad in it. It spoke of all the years they had been apart.

"Because I want to prove to you that I am worthy of an explanation, wench," he confessed. "And I want to know why I wasn't ten years ago."

* * *

After they had finished their drinks, Jaime and Brienne left _Cerwyn Coffee_ and took a taxi back to Jaime's apartment, which was on the posh side of town. They mostly sat in silence watching the city fly by beyond the windows, their only contact her fingers curled around his arm.

Not quite meeting her eye, Jaime said, "you can look at the spare room... see if it will work."

"Thank you."

It was all she could think of saying, even as she kept a firm hold of his wrist. Letting go would hurt.

_Thank you for a second chance._

When they finally arrived at the apartment block, Jaime paid the cabbie then opened the door for Brienne, leaving her to exit the car as if she was a princess appearing at a ball instead of a druggie rocking up at her ex's flat.

She smiled at him. "Thank you, Jaime."

A strange expression crossed his face. "You don't have to keep saying that."

"But I want to," she said, speaking softly. "I want to."

Perhaps because Jaime was slightly abashed by her gratitude, they took the lift up to the twelfth floor in yet another silence. A part of Brienne that was ten years younger and ready to forgive wanted to reach out and take his hand; the rest of her, which knew things were not that easy, wanted to run away. Consequently, she just made do with the quiet. When they eventually arrived at Jaime's apartment, he took a great deal of time and ceremony in undoing to lock.

"Is everything okay?" Brienne asked, looking at him bemusedly when he finally unlocked the door.

"Yes, of course," he replied, "but before we settle on anything, there is someone I need you to meet."

Jaime then pushed the door open and went inside, Brienne trailing in his wake. Thinking he was speaking of Tyrion or Bronn or one of his children, Brienne was surprised to see there was somebody already inside his apartment and she was entirely unfamiliar. The woman was a little younger than Brienne herself; petite, with tresses of dark hair, she was everything Brienne had wanted to grow into when she was a child.

Pretty. Dainty. Cute. Entirely Un-Brienne as it was as possible to be.

As Brienne and Jaime fully entered the room, the woman stopped watching the television, got up off the sofa, and looked at them both confusedly.

"Hey Jaime. Who is this?"

Jaime shot a quick, nervous glance at Brienne before giving the woman an equally strained smile.

"Melara," he said, his voice heavy, "this is my ex-wife Brienne. Brienne, this is my fiancée Melara. Melara, Brienne is going to be staying with us for a while."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHH thank you so much for reading. As always, I would totally love to hear from you in a comment, kudos, or a prompt on tumblr. I am SeeThemFlying!
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	35. Tell Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their accidental meeting, Jaime tries to explain things to Brienne and Melara...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, so... I am a little bit scared to put up this chapter after the reaction last time, but I hope you enjoy. This is the fourth part of the Divorce AU and will be a Jaime POV for the first time. This series is 100% angst, so prepare for conflict and bad decisions, but I hope you don't think this Jaime is a complete monster by the end. Just very lost.
> 
> I drew inspiration from a prompt from Virareve, who asked how Tommen and Myrcella could figure in Jaime's future. There is a little rumination on them here.

"Melara, this is my ex-wife Brienne. Brienne, this is my fiancée Melara. Melara, Brienne is going to be staying with us for a while."

The silence in the room was instantaneous and threatened to swallow them all whole. As it stretched out, both women gazed at Jaime with wide eyes - blue and brown - uncomprehendingly. In their reflected emotion, he could not help but think of another pair of eyes, this time green, which had looked up at him in the same way once before.

"Why can't you come to visit us anymore, Uncle Jaime?" Myrcella had asked, seemingly not understanding. "Have I been bad?"

"No, sweetheart, you haven't been bad," he had said. "Not at all."

 _I've been bad,_ he wanted to add. _I've been bad and I need to cut the poison out of my life... and Cersei is the poison... I am her poison..._

_Brienne is the antidote._

When nothing changed from this position at the centre of the quiet, and his fiancée and his ex-wife just continued to stare at each other in something that could have been described as mounting horror, a knot began to tighten in Jaime's stomach.

_Fuck._

As Melara was much better at pretending than Brienne, eventually, she managed to plaster a hesitant smile on her face as she acknowledged their new guest. "Jaime, I did not know you were still in touch with Brienne."

"We weren't," he began, trying to explain, "I just met her again today. I didn't even know you were..."

"I didn't even know he was _engaged_ ," interjected Brienne, her mouth a firm line. "But then again, Jaime was always good at keeping secrets."

She said it so accusatorily that Jaime could not help but flinch.

 _I deserve that,_ he thought.

He had also deserved it when Myrcella had said something similar to him on a night long ago. Unable to hide the wildfire burning inside her, Cersei had been sectioned, leaving her three teenaged children with their father. That was until Cersei admitted that Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen were actually Jaime's to Robert Baratheon when he came to gloat at her predicament. It had been the only weapon she had. DNA Tests had been swift, and soon the three children were without protection. Jaime had offered to take them in, but Myrcella had refused, angrily calling him on the phone.

"You are _not_ my father, whatever that test says. You abandoned us! Why would we want to come and live with you?"

"I didn't abandon you, Myrcy, I just thought it was better if I was out of your lives for the time being. Brienne had left me, and I..."

"She found out, didn't she? And you wanted her back, so you thought pretending we didn't exist was the best way to achieve that!" raged Myrcella, the phone distorting at her volume. "Do you know what? I don't care! From now on, keep your secrets to yourself!"

It was something Jaime had resolved to live by since then; keeping his secrets to himself. The woman he had loved the most had thought him a vile reprobate and had never given him a chance to explain. He disgusted his own daughter. And if Melara ever knew the truth of his past, surely she would run away too. Why would he ever share a piece of himself, let alone the darkest parts, with someone else ever again? It was why he was now here standing in his lounge with Melara and Brienne staring at him; he had been far too afraid to tell the latter of the former's existence.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

"Secrets?" asked Melara, raising an eyebrow at him. "What secrets?"

"It's nothing. Brienne is just being facetious, aren't you wench?" Jaime said. The old nickname clanged hard against the tension in the room, and Jaime could have sworn both women flinched. "I mean... Brienne is just being facetious, _aren't you_?"

She shrugged, her mouth an angry line. "Something like that."

 _Fuck, this was suck a stupid mistake,_ thought Jaime. _Why did I think this was a good idea? I just wanted to help her, I just wanted..._

"Brienne, why don't you sit down for a moment and I'll make you a cup of tea?" suggested Melara, gesturing towards the armchair. "Jaime, will you come and help me?"

"What do you need help with...?"

"Now," said Melara, her tone forceful even as she continued to smile at Brienne. "Right _now."_

Jaime shot a quick glance at Brienne for long enough to watch her comply with Melara's offer and sit down, looking as awkward and gangly as ever as she sank back into the scatter cushions Melara had bought him for Sevenmas. Even after all these years Jaime felt strangely touched by her bruised vulnerability mixed with ferocity, which was crystal clear in her stunning blue eyes.

_But I've hurt her again, like the cruel bastard I am._

As Brienne clearly had no more to say for herself, Jaime followed Melara into the kitchen, keeping his head down. Once the door shut behind them, Melara turned on the kettle, got out the mugs, teabags, and milk, and then looked at him, her eyes alight.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

He crumbled at once.

"I don't know! She turned up at the Shade Scheme looking all lost and hopeless, and I just thought I could help her. I know she has no friends in King's Landing, no one on her side, and she's trying to get off the Shade..."

"And you thought bringing her here was a good idea?" Melara asked, in a loud whisper. "We haven't even moved in together yet and you are wanting to bring her into your flat as some permanent house guest! Are you insane? She's your ex-wife!"

Jaime sighed. It was clear from Melara's tone that she was not really open to an explanation, but he knew he had to try. "I want to help her, Mel. I wronged her in the past... and the state she is in now... _I_ made her that way. Me."

"Why? What did you do that was so terrible?"

Jaime bit down on his tongue. He remembered what had happened the numerous times he had tried to contact Brienne to explain his past with Cersei, how he had tried to justify himself to Myrcella, and how both of them had ended up screaming at him, blocking his number, and never wanting to speak to him again.

Some things were better buried.

"You know... just end of relationship drama," said Jaime lamely, trying to find a way out of this conversation. "I figured that she could stay here in my guest bedroom, and if I wanted to spend time with you, we could go around to yours or just go out entirely. You never needed to cross her path... I didn't even know you were going to be here today."

"You gave me a key, remember?" interjected Melara, staring at him incredulously.

"I know, but I thought I could work this out in a way to explain this to both of you before you were suddenly face to face. I could have let Brienne know the realities of living here..."

"Why do you even _want_ her to live here?" asked Melara snappishly. "We are getting married soon! She is your ex-wife! I know we haven't been together long, but I thought you would respect me enough to know that I would need a bit of forewarning before springing something like this on me! It's not as if she meant nothing to you in the past..."

Jaime ran his hands over his face, desperately trying to explain why he had done it. "If there is one thing that I know from being a counsellor, it is that you have the best chance to recover if you have people who love and support you around you. Brienne doesn't have that. Years ago, when she left King's Landing, she cut off ties with everyone and even if she does have friends now... they _let_ her get like this. And it is not as if she can make new friends now besides other Shade users or even find a boyfriend. The advice is to stay out of relationships for a good year after becoming clean. I know it is not ideal her living here - for you, for me, even for her - but I will not let her lose this fight. I owe her this, Melara. She might not want to stay here, this might not be a help to her... I don't know... but I at least want to offer her that. I can't fail her again... I _won't_ fail her again."

He only realised how intense his tone had got when he noticed he was gripping Melara's shoulders, his fingers digging into her skin. How could he explain adequately? This was not just about Brienne, but about showing that he could do more for those he loved than just hurt them. Cersei had been sectioned. Myrcella was sickened by what she knew. And Brienne had just been irrevocably disgusted when she had discovered that all that existed in the heart of the man she had loved was darkness and filth.

During his speech, Melara's eyes had gone very wide. "You still love her?"

Jaime saw no point in lying.

"Of course I do. I will always love her. It is not romantic... not what we have... but it is love, all the same."

Melara's face crumpled. "Jaime, I..."

" _She_ doesn't love me," he declared, pulling his fiancée into his arms in an attempt to reassure her, even as he tried to forget how Brienne had told him she used Shade to journey into his arms. She can't have been serious, not after the way she had left him and made him feel like little more than dirt on her shoe. "In fact, she I barely think she likes me, so there is nothing to be afraid of."

"Surely this is against the Shade Scheme's guidelines," mumbled Melara into his shoulder, attempting to find another excuse, "for you to offer her to live with you."

Jaime shook his head, his chin brushing her hair. "No, it is not. I have referred her case to one of my colleagues, so I would only be giving her a place to stay and someone to talk to if that is what she wants. _If_ that is what she wants. I don't know if she will say yes, but I at least wanted to try to be helpful..."

As he had expected Melara to give him more anger, Jaime was relieved when he felt her sigh and relax into his embrace. His last few hugs with Brienne in the lawyer's bathroom had been desperate and supplicatory, while Myrcella and Tommen had always been stiff in his arms. It was a small piece of magic that someone in the world would just let Jaime Lannister hold them, and she would hold him back. It felt like forgiveness.

"As long as this doesn't affect us," said Melara, lifting her head so she could gaze into his eyes. "Although we have not been together long, I am at a point in my life where I know what I want, and I want _you."_ He tried not to flinch. If she knew the real him that was hiding under his golden mask, Melara would run away just as Brienne had. "I don't want anything tearing us apart."

"It won't," he said gently. "It won't, I promise."

Melara's face lit up with a tentative smile, that made Jaime believe for a brief moment that he was a good man. "As long as you are sure. I love you."

Leaning forward, Jaime kissed her, wanting to demonstrate with his body that the woman in the next room who knew everything about him and had strange, haunting eyes was no threat.

He wanted to believe the lie himself, after all.

Once Melara was reassured, the pair of them went back into the living room hand in hand to find Brienne sitting on the sofa. She had seemingly made herself comfortable and was now playing with the beading on one of the scatter cushions, as if to distract herself from the fact she was in her ex-husbands flat with blue lips and his secret at her disposal.

He cleared his throat.

"Brienne," said Jaime loudly, wanting to grab her attention. She looked up at him at the sound of her name. In an effort to appear defiant, she just gazed at him with those soul-searching eyes of hers. Cold.

"Yes?"

"This is Melara," Jaime announced, deciding the best thing to do was to take the bull by the horns. "She is my fiancée. We met on holiday in Pentos and we have been together for six months. We don't live together, so if you wanted to stay here during your recovery, you would never have to see each other. It would be a case of you staying in the spare room, having me here to help you if you need someone to talk to... some support."

Melara squeezed his fingers.

"So, if that is what you want, I will be happy to have you here... and so will Melara. I am determined that if you want to get off the Shade, I will be as useful to you as possible. If that means you staying here, that is perfect. If it is not... well, that is fine too. What do you think?"

Jaime's question hung in the air and he watched as Brienne considered his proposal, turning it around and viewing it from every angle.

"Does _she_ know everything about you?" asked Brienne eventually, playing with the corner of one of the scatter cushions to make it appear like a casual question. "All the juicy secrets?"

"Of course I do," said Melara, her words firm even as she sounded ruffled. "We may not have been together long, but this is real."

 _Not about Cersei you don't,_ he thought sadly. _Nor Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen. I'll never let else anyone in. No one will ever see me again, because I know I am hideous. Brienne taught me that._

"She knows most things," mumbled Jaime, aware that what he was saying would betray to Brienne that he had not told his new fiancée the secret that had ended his marriage.

A light flamed behind Brienne's eyes as realisation dawned on her. "Ah."

"But there's time," Jaime interjected swiftly, not wanting to give her a chance to gloat over his shame. "There is time for us to learn more about one another."

Brienne did not say anything, but just surveyed both Jaime and Melara with those blue eyes of hers. He wondered what she was thinking. In the past, he had always thought that he was able to read her like a book; now, he was not so sure.

"I'll stay," she said lightly, as if it were no big decision, "for a few days at least. My flat is a load of crap, and it might be nice to have someone to talk to... when things get hard."

With her easy acquiescence, Jaime felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders; maybe it was the load of not being instantly upfront with both his fiancée and his ex, or maybe the guilt of a whole lifetime.

Jaime could not help but smile. "That's all I am offering, wench. A friend. If I can be a friend to you in this difficult time... that's all I want."

Her expression was unreadable, but it held his attention more than any other woman's ever had. Jaime only managed to tear his gaze away when he felt Melara's fingers on his wrist.

"Come on," she said gently, "why don't you help me finish the tea? I think the kettle has boiled."

As Jaime went to turn away from his ex-wife, Myrcella's condemning face danced before his eyes. If he could not make things right in every area of his life, at least he might be able to do some small piece of good. He followed Melara back into the kitchen, trying to keep his eyes from wandering and meeting Brienne's.

As ever, they were impossibly blue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! As ever, I would love to hear what you think with a comment or kudos!
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	36. Opening the Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime Lannister, celebrity and professional hot guy, is assigned new security detail in the form of Brienne 'She Can Lift More Than You' Tarth. Feelings ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Thanks for coming to read this chapter. This was inspired by a prompt from bussdowntarthiana who asked for: "Jaime Lannister, celebrity and professional hot guy, is assigned new security detail in the form of Brienne "she can lift more than you" Tarth".
> 
> FYI, mention of canon typical violence and rape.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Brienne knows it is her job to stand here silently outside his hotel door, because she's got the monthly cheque to prove it. Nevertheless, she still hates it.

Being a bodyguard for Renly had been hard - the waiting, the silence, the longing - but then she had been certain that nothing could ever happen between them. He was gay and sleeping with Loras Tyrell, while Loras' sister Margaery covered for them every time they went to an award ceremony or a press conference as Renly's beard. It was part of Brienne's job to make this fiction appear reality. Yet in doing her duty to her beloved Renly, she had come to understand what she was; an ugly tree trunk bodyguard who wasted her tears over him every night, even though she knew it was pointless to cry. In the bodyguard circle, she had even earnt the nickname Brienne 'She Can Lift More Than You' Tarth for the time she fireman lifted Renly out of a paparazzi storm. Given her lack of any feminine attributes, how could Renly, let alone another man, look at her twice?

Jaime Lannister was another matter though.

Rich, handsome, and with a scandalous past to match, Jaime Lannister was the latest movie heartthrob to play a string of roles in popular, but flimsy, rom-coms - _Citadel School Musical_ , _Mean Maidens_ , and _100 Things I Hate About You -_ all the while longing to be taken seriously as an actor. Brienne could see his ambitions in his green eyes every time someone mentioned Renly, who was up for yet another Iron Throne award after his role in _Storm Lord._ Jealous, Jaime had to content himself with another role as the hot but dim boyfriend in some tawdry chick flick. Although he was a fairly notable actor, Brienne had actually been assigned to Jaime as his new security detail after he began to make a habit of rolling out of clubs at one o'clock in the morning and getting papped absolutely wasted. She was more babysitter than bodyguard.

It had seemed such a simple job, even with his taunting,

"Are you a woman?" he had asked, the first time they had met.

Her answering expression had been solemn and aggressive. "Yes."

"Oh," he smirked. "You must be Brienne 'She Can Lift More Than You' Tarth. I see it now. You are infamous for mooning over Renly Baratheon of all people instead of guarding him. Weren't you aware he likes dick?"

She chose to pretend she wasn't hurt by his casual cruelty and silently ignored him, chewing a wasp.

Yet in spite of how annoying he was, Brienne was forced to accompany Jaime to the shops and the cinema, the clubs and the red carpet, hovering at his shoulder to make sure he didn't get kidnapped or punched or have his million dollar hair ruffled. While these tasks were all very serious, her most important job was to guard his hotel door whenever his sister Cersei visited, and pretend she didn't hear the sounds that came from within.

"I love you... I love you... I love you... Gods, Cersei... I'm yours..."

At that disgusting display, Brienne Tarth was resolved to hate Jaime Lannister; him and his smug smile, his cutting jokes, his obsession with his sick sister... but then everything had changed.

Irrevocably.

When the Bloody Mummers came for him, it was all Brienne could do to stop them smashing his pretty face in right there and then. Tywin Lannister was one of the richest men on the planet, so they expected a handsome ransom for his son.

"He'll never pay for me," Jaime had laughed morosely as the two of them lay tied up together on a mouldy mattress in the Bloody Mummer's den. "He won't negotiate with terrorists."

"But he's your father!"

"He doesn't care," he muttered, almost looking sad. "Not at all... not for me."

Unfortunately, Vargo Hoat was determined to _make_ Tywin Lannister care. All it took was a hammer, a mobile phone, a video sharing site, and Jaime Lannister's right hand, but eventually their plight caught the world's attention, if not Jaime's father's. Yet the golden Lannister heir did not seem to care about the world; he was consumed by the never-ending pain and Brienne's arms around him, rubbing soothing circles on his back.

"It is alright. We will get out of here. I promise you, Jaime. I promise," she said, even though she had barely believed it herself.

And yet she _had_ managed to keep her promise, but it was mostly due to other people. The Bloody Mummers had grown bored of Tywin Lannister's refusal to pay and decided to play with their toys. It had taken an offer of a mountain of sapphires and sweet lies from Jaime's mouth to stop them ripping the clothes off Brienne's back and raping her right there and then. Brienne was thankful, but she did not know how to tell him. It felt too strangely intimate to confess her gratitude when they were tied up together, and then after the Watch came and saved them and Jaime was rushed to hospital, she never found the right time.

Not when he called her and asked her to visit. Nor when she sat by his bedside because none of his family would come see him. Nor when he returned to normality and they somehow ended up friends...

Nor when their friendship started to burn.

She had first noticed it the night Jaime had kicked Cersei out of his hotel room on the night of Tyrion's birthday. Brienne had heard arguing behind the hotel door, and then a furious order that she should _leave._

"I love you... I love you... I love you... Gods, Jaime... I'm yours..."

Yet Jaime Lannister had sent her away, and Brienne was proud of him.

That pride turned to fear a few days later the night of her own birthday, when he had unexpectedly bought her a sword, a horse, and some movie plate armour.

"Why have you got me all this?" Brienne had asked, agog, once Jaime had ordered his driver to take them to a nearby stable where he introduced her to the prettiest pony who ever lived, who was now apparently hers.

Surprising, he took her hand.

"You are my White Knight, Ser Brienne. I needed to say thank you."

It was at the sight of his contented little smile then that made her realise how far she had fallen for him, hard and fast. Brienne wanted to shake herself. On what planet would Jaime Lannister ever want Brienne 'She Can Lift More Than You' Tarth? Just because things had got tense, weird, and peppered with longing between them in the months since the Bloody Mummers, it didn't mean it was _real_.

And yet... and yet...

Earlier that evening, Jaime had been in attendance at the wrap party for his latest film at the swankiest hotel in King's Landing; the Red Keep. Brienne was there, of course, to protect him, but he was surrounded by so many adoring fans that she kept far away from him to the side of the room, mostly chatting to the Hound, Jaime's co-star Sansa's bodyguard. She had thought that would be the end of it, but Jaime kept catching her eye.

Green met blue, and the whole world shivered.

Brienne went to get a drink - _it's so hot in here_ \- but while she was waiting for her mimosa, Jaime appeared at her side, all smart suit and starlight eyes.

"We need to talk... later."

"About what?"

"You _know_ what."

"I don't."

He gave her a withering look. "Well, for once, be brave and open my door. You might find out how much we have to _discuss."_

There was an emphasis on the last word that made her quiver and retreat from him, hiding behind the fact that Sansa Stark came over to the bar and tried to strike up a conversation with her co-star. Yet Brienne felt Jaime's eyes burning into her back as she ran away, out of the party and into the night air, walking, walking, walking in an attempt to think straight.

 _Don't imagine things that aren't there,_ she told herself forcefully. _You_ know _who you are. You are Brienne "She can lift more than you" Tarth and he is Jaime Lannister. This can never be love._

Yet now she is here, hovering outside his hotel room. She knows he is inside; she can hear the muffled sound of the TV and him moving around the suite. Placing her hand on the door, she presses her ear to the wood, and imagines she can listen to him taking off his clothes and laying down in his bed... naked and beautiful and perfect...

All she would need to do to see it for herself is be brave and open the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! As ever, I would love to hear what you think in the form of comments or kudos :)
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	37. As Much Soul As You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After hearing mysterious noises in Mr Lannister's attic, Miss Tarth goes to investigate...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, so this is the second part of my Jane Eyre AU. It is inspired by the movie quote mash-up prompt sent by wildlingoftarth who asked for nos. 8 and 9, which were:
> 
> 8) "I wish I knew how to quit you" - Brokeback Mountain (2005)
> 
> 9) "You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how" - Gone with the Wind (1939)
> 
> I also took some inspiration from Charlotte Brontë (and may have stolen one or two lines!)
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Once she had put her nightdress on, Miss Tarth ventured after the ghostly footsteps, candle in hand. Pricking her ears up, she swore she could hear a voice singing a song in the distance.

" _And who are you the proud lord said..."_

Miss Tarth wondered if it was coming from the party downstairs, but the sound of pizzicato strings soon told her otherwise. She considered the possibility of the singer being Myrcella, but soon confirmed that not to be the case when she discovered the child was lost to sleep when she peeped around her bedroom door.

 _There is someone upstairs in the attic,_ Miss Tarth thought. _Singing._

Given the otherwise eerie quiet and the flitting shadows, it took all the young governess' resolve to journey to the foot of the small spiral staircase that led to the attic. Brienne had spent years diligently holding onto her courage, but now she feared it would desert her. For the first time in her life, she felt as if she had a home here with Tommen and Myrcella and... _him._ What if some awakened spirit tore that security asunder? Yet Miss Tarth was never to find out as, when she reached the foot of the stair, a door behind her opened. It was Mrs Merryweather, the housekeeper, examining her with those dark eyes of hers.

"Miss Tarth? What are you doing here at this late hour?"

Nearly jumping out of her skin, Brienne fixed the Myrish woman with a curious stare. "I was tired after dancing... so I came up to my room... but I heard a voice."

"A voice?" asked Mrs Merryweather, her brow knitted. "What voice?"

Miss Tarth shrugged. "A woman's voice. She was singing. It was _The Rains of Castamere,_ I think."

"Oh," said the housekeeper, waving a dismissive hand at Miss Tarth. "Do not worry. That was me."

"You?"

"Yes," she smiled, her brown eyes bright. "When I was a girl, I thought to be a singer. Of course such dreams evaded me, but now and then I like to practice."

Unconvinced, Miss Tarth gave Mrs Merryweather a disbelieving look. "In the middle of the night?"

Mrs Merryweather's smile collapsed abruptly. "The acoustics are better. Now, Miss Tarth, don't you think it is time you went to bed?"

"I..."

"It is getting late, and I am sure Mr Lannister will want you teaching Master Tommen his High Valyrian tommorrow morning. You will need your sleep!"

Given that the Myrish woman was now half-blocking Miss Tarth from ascending to the attic, the governess knew she had little chance but to return to her own room with only her questions for company. "Very well, Mrs Merryweather. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Miss Tarth," said the housekeeper, nodding at her in such a way it almost seemed an order.

Clearly not having any other choice, Brienne turned away and headed back along the corridor, feeling Mrs Merryweather's gaze burning into her back. If she really pricked up her ears, she could have sworn she still heard a faraway voice.

" _And so he spoke... and so he spoke..."_

* * *

Brienne rose early the next morning expecting to hear the end of the song, but all she heard was silence. Quickly getting washed and dressed, she went down to the servant’s quarters in order to get a slice of bread and honey. Mr Lannister always slept in late and had the cook bring him his eggs for breakfast, especially when he had been drinking the night before, so Brienne was at least she would not have to face the ignominy of seeing him. Unfortunately, she had not anticipated the gossip.

"I expect it will be announced soon," said Mrs Graceford the cook to Senelle the scullery maid as she fried rashers of bacon. "It will be the talk of the town, maybe of the entire Westerlands."

Senelle smiled excitedly. "Maybe my Ma can make me a new dress, in Lannister gold."

"You'll be lucky," snorted Mrs Graceford, flipping the bacon over. "It is unlikely that Mr Lannister would ever invite _you."_

"Invite Senelle to what?" asked Brienne, as she took two slices of bread from the bread bin and began to butter them. At the best of times, she only had the smallest toleration for town gossip, but seeing as the children were not yet awake, she could not help but loiter for a small few moments with the cook and the maid. They were easier company than Mr Lannister.

Mrs Graceford went to answer, but Senelle beat her to it. "Mr Lannister's wedding. At the dance last night, him and Miss Tyrell went for a walk in the gardens. _Alone._ We all know what that means; it means they will be wed."

Not taking her eyes from Senelle's animated face, Brienne put the butter knife down on the counter in an effort not to drop it. "Wed?"

"Mmm Hmm," confirmed Senelle, looking at Brienne excitedly. "Isn't it romantic? Mr Lannister is heir to the Westerlands, and Miss Tyrell is the daughter of the Lord Paramount of the Reach. It is almost written already; like a song, a fairy story. Oh! How pretty she will look in her dress!"

As Senelle began twittering about silks and velvets, the image of Miss Tyrell in a beautiful white gown crossed Brienne's mind. Her hair braided with roses, a gaudy emerald at her throat, and arm in arm with Mr Jaime Lannister at the sept at Casterly Rock. The idea made Brienne's stomach sink.

 _Fool,_ she thought, knowing she needed no other word to wound herself with. _Fool, fool, fool. You saw the way he looked last night, the way he stared at her. Why on earth wouldn't he pick Miss Tyrell? She's beautiful and radiant and I'm... I'm..._

Suddenly not feeling very hungry, Brienne stepped back from the counter, abandoning her bread. Mrs Graceford spotted her expression at once. "Miss Tarth, are you quite well?"

"Fine," she lied, swallowing repeatedly to keep her tears at bay. "I have just remembered I have not prepared for Tommen's High Valyrian class. I must go."

In spite of Mrs Graceford's concerned look, Brienne was about to be overcome, so she retreated from the room, not wanting anyone to see her cry.

* * *

As it turned out, Miss Tarth was not the only one unprepared for High Valyrian; Tommen was too.

"But I don't know what the genital case is!"

"The _genitive_ case," corrected Brienne gently. "It is used to indicate possession, so..."

"Is it true my father is getting married?"

Brienne snapped her head around at the question. Myrcella was sitting at the corner of the room, having finished all her Valyrian translations. Technically, Lord Tywin had forbade her from learning the language - it was unbefitting for a woman, apparently - but Brienne had let her sit in on the side and take notes. She was no lesser just because she was a girl, and in fact had an aptitude for the subject that Tommen lacked.

At that moment, Myrcella was not interested in Valyrian declensions, however, but in the servants' idle gossip.

"Where did you hear that?" asked Brienne levelly, not wanting to startle the young, motherless children.

"Everyone is talking about it. They say that my father asked Miss Tyrell to marry him at the ball last night. Is that true?"

At Myrcella's question, Tommen looked up has his governess, clearly also desperate for answers. Yet Brienne found she could not oblige them. Yes, it was very likely that their despicable father was marrying Miss Tyrell, but how could she tell them that unhappy truth before he did? It would break their little hearts. They barely knew Margaery Tyrell.

"I do not know, Myrcella, so if we can please return to the genitive case..."

"But..."

"No buts!" ordered Brienne sternly, wanting to shut this conversation down before she tore herself apart. "Now... High Valyrian."

* * *

Over the next few days, Brienne was resolved to see Mr Lannister hardly at all. She decided to eat with the servants rather than with Jaime and the children in an effort to avoid him, and never took the opportunity to sit with him by the fire in the evenings to while away the hours. Whenever he sought her out, she tried to brush him away.

"Miss Tarth," he said loudly after discovering her helping Mrs Graceford organise the pantry. "Will you come and play the piano for me? I am awfully bored this evening and need some entertainment."

His green eyes glittered.

"I cannot, sir," Brienne replied firmly, not liking his game. "I am helping Mrs Graceford."

"Well, I need you to help _me_ and I am the Lord and Master here, so you will do what I say!"

There was a hint of teasing to his voice, but Brienne still refused to let him win. When forced to play him something on the pianoforte in the parlour, she decided to waltz through Mr Sevenstreams _Piano Concerto in D Flat Major_ at half its usual speed, without giving a pause between movements. It meant that Mr Lannister had no space to launch one of his cutting comments at her, and could only watch her silently as her long fingers danced across the keys. Still, she could not help but notice the way his green eyes shone so bright in the firelight or how he folded his hands over his lap as he gazed at her.

In his continued insistence at staring at her, Brienne resolved not to let him see that she was bleeding internally.

Haunted by his eyes and the ghosts in the attic, the next day, Miss Tarth sent a raven to the editor of the _King's Landing Chronicle,_ advertising her services as a governess. She informed him that she needed to find work as quickly as possible, because her old employer was soon to be married and his children would have a new mother. Although Miss Tarth loved Tommen and Myrcella dearly, she could not bring herself to watch Mr Lannister commit himself to another woman. It would be far too much, even though it was caused by her own stupidity.

_Fool, fool, fool, fool, fool._

Luckily, she received a fairly prompt reply, confirming receipt of the letter and that it would be placed in the adverts section of _The_ _Chronicle_ within the week. Knowing that her time at Casterly Rock was soon drawing to an end, Miss Tarth went to inform Mrs Merryweather of her intention to leave.

The housekeeper's eyes were wide with shock. "Was it the ghost in the attic that scared you away?"

"No," replied Miss Tarth confusedly, "it is just that now Mr Lannister is to be married presently, it is best I find a new situation. His new wife is likely to want to install her own people to educate Tommen and Myrcella as she waits for the patter of tiny feet."

The housekeeper nodded understandingly. "Of course. It is only natural. Have you told Mr Lannister? Or would you like me to pass on the message?"

"If you would not mind," answered Brienne, attempting to stop her face going guilty red. "I doubt Mr Lannister wants to be troubled by my news."

With the wheels in motion for her departure, Miss Tarth decided to make the most of her time left at Casterly Rock. In her few spare moments, she set out to explore it's every nook and cranny. The castle really was one of the wonders of the world, after all. With its huge indomitable battlements it should have been terrifying; however, Brienne found it had a picturesque beauty, especially when watching the gulls fly over the western sea or walking in the gardens. On one such day, not long after she had received her reply from the editor of _The Chronicle,_ Brienne found herself strolling through the herb garden, listening to the birds sing. Tommen had been having trouble with the ablative all morning, so she wanted some fresh air and to feel unburdened for a few short hours.

No such luck was to be had, however, as Mr Lannister made his appearance.

"Miss Tarth! Miss Tarth!" he called, running after her, disturbing the bird song. "Miss Tarth!"

Not really wanting to stop and chat to him, Brienne picked up her pace, but Mr Lannister caught up with her. In the dappled light of the gardens, he looked a golden haired god.

"Good day, Mr Lannister. Fare you well?"

He caught her wrist with his hand, but she did not alter her path. "I have been speaking to Mrs Merryweather."

"What about, sir?"

"I hear you are leaving us."

"Correct," she replied, unable to meet his eye. "I have sent an advert to the _King's Landing Chronicle_ in order to find a suitable post."

His green-eyed gaze grew more intense. "Why?" he asked, tugging on her arm to bring her to a halt. Feeling a little weak at his closeness, Brienne acquiesced to his demand.

"I am a free woman, sir. I can find a new post if I so wish."

If Brienne was expecting seriousness, she was disappointed, as Mr Lannister smiled at her, all teeth and dimples. "Of course, but why now? I thought you were settled."

Not wanting to discuss this with him, Brienne dropped her eyes to the floor. "I was... but things change, sir... and I need a new role, a new aim in life..."

"What if I was to find you a new situation?"

Surprised by his uncharacteristic generosity, Brienne looked up at Mr Lannister to discover he seemed quite sincere. "You do not need to do me the service, sir..."

"But what if I _want_ to?" he smiled, the curl of his lip almost transforming it into a smirk as he pulled her towards a nearby tree. "What if I could find you a new situation that would keep you happy, content and, dare I say, _satisfied_ for the rest of your life. Would you accept then?"

Unsure of what Mr Lannister was trying to say - did he already have a proposition in mind? - Brienne tried to address him in her most business-like manner, if only to root out the truth of his proposal. "If it suited my station and earned me an honest wage... I would be much obliged to you, sir."

His smile grew wider as he stepped closer. "I think I like that."

"What?"

"You being obliged to me, Miss Tarth. Throughout our friendship, I have always felt as if I am playing a game I can never hope to win. Maybe this would give me the upper hand."

Brienne almost balked at that statement. "Our _friendship?"_

"We have been good friends, haven't we?" he asked, his expression suddenly turning soft and unsure. "In the time you have been here, I felt we have built up a rapport." As he gazed at her almost tenderly with those beloved eyes of his, Brienne found it difficult to speak. In all her years alive, she had few friends before, but her feelings for them had never burned the way those she held for Mr Lannister did.

Eventually, "yes, sir," was all she could think of saying.

"Good," Mr Lannister smiled, his softness exchanged for some other nameless warm emotion in a moment. "Because I have such a regard for you, Miss Tarth, that I feel quite bound to you. And if you were to leave... well... that connection would surely be permanently severed, and these pretty nightingales would stop singing in my garden."

A bird swooped overhead but she hardly noticed as his eyes seemed to hold the world. In the afternoon light, Mr Lannister looked so much like the hero of a song that Brienne barely comprehended what he said next.

"But you, Miss Tarth... you would forget me, and leave without saying goodbye."

His accusation was barbed - Brienne could tell by his hardening expression - yet even so she felt compelled to fight back.

"How can you think that of me?" she asked, her voice small in the face of his heated stare. "How can you think I would go without a word?"

"You wrote to _The Chronicle_ without telling me," he replied challengingly. "After that cruelty, I could well believe you would not stop there."

"Cruelty?" Brienne spluttered, thinking of the night that he had kissed Miss Tyrell's cheek when she had hoped against all hope that he would dance with her. "Why would I be cruel to you? I have lived a good life here. I have not been mocked or laughed at, pitied or scorned, hated or derided. The servants have been pleasant, and your children are amongst the kindest and sweetest in the world. I have been allowed to breathe here and feel the wind through my hair in a way I never have been before. I have come to know you, Mr Lannister, and I will miss our conversations by the fireside, truly. It will pain me to leave you more than I can say!"

Her voice built to a crescendo, which caused Mr Lannister to try to interrupt her, but Brienne refused to let him.

"I wish I knew how to quit you," she admitted, her voice almost a sob, "because I must go, and you must stay here!"

"Why? Why must you leave me?" Mr Lannister asked, seizing her shoulders in a effort to lock her in place so he could gaze at her more forcefully with those soul-searching eyes of his.

It was such a ludicrous question that Brienne almost scoffed derisively. "Because of your wife!"

"I have no wife!"

"You are to be married!"

At her exclamation. Mr Lannister exhaled sharply as if to relieve some of the tension coursing through his body, then replied in a level tone. "Brienne, you must stay."

 _Brienne,_ she thought. _As if he has a right to my name._

"And become nothing more to you than a statue in your collection, made to watch as you play at love? Do you think I have so little feeling to be able to bear that, especially considering all the emotion you have inspired in me these past months? I may be ugly and poor, but I have my will and my independence, and you cannot expect me to stay here and consign myself to an afterthought! It may break my heart to leave you and, by the gods, I wish I had the beauty to make our parting as painful for you as it will be for me, but I cannot stay if I have even a scrap of self-respect."

In a moment of realisation, Mr Lannister stared at her as if the sun had just risen in her eyes.

"An afterthought?" he thundered, suddenly a storm as wild as those on Shipbreaker's Bay. "You? An afterthought? I have not had any thoughts to spare on anything but _you_ since the day you entered my house. _You_ , Miss Tarth, who would not render herself my subordinate and twirl for me like a doll on a music box. _You_ , who would not play my jealous games. _You_ , who has born my foul tempers and teasing."

Not fully believing she was hearing this, Brienne could not help but stammer. "Mr Lannister... I... I..."

"And as for being ugly, you are more beautiful that I could ever be!" he proclaimed, lifting one hand to cup her cheek. "You deserve the world, Brienne, and I will try my best to give it to you. You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how. And you _should_ be my wife, with everything that comes with it, because it is natural and right and proper, and I know we shall be very happy together. Marry me, wench. Please, do me that honour!"

Mr Lannister moved closer, almost as if to kiss her, but Brienne pulled back, terrified of this blissful dream turned reality. "Are you mocking me?"

"Mocking you?" he asked incredulously. "I have never been more serious about anything in my life! Do you doubt me?"

Brienne could only tell him the truth. "Entirely! Miss Tyrell is your bride."

"Miss Tyrell?" Mr Lannister spluttered, halfway between laughter and anger at her wide-eyed belief. "Miss Tyrell? The pretty statue with the vacant smile? It's _you_ , you rare and unearthly thing. You, who has haunted my dreams and not left me alone. I know there are differences in rank between us but... I can hardly bring myself to care. Please accept my proposal. You _must_ be mine."

Mr Lannister's expression was so passionate and heated that Brienne did not know where to look, especially as one of his hands remained on her cheek while the other grasped at her waist almost painfully. Even though she had watched him nearly every night lit up by the glow of the fire, Mr Lannister had never looked more beautiful than in this moment.

"You love me?" asked Brienne, disbelievingly, even as the truth of the matter was written all over his beloved face.

"Entirely."

"You want me to be your wife?"

"I do."

As his nearness and most ardent affections overwhelmed her, Brienne could not help but acquiesce to his demand. "Then, sir, I will marry you!"

"Jaime," he murmured, just before their lips met. "My name is Jaime."

Washed away by his kiss - hot, eager, fevered - Brienne threw her arms around his neck and let him pull her tight into an embrace. His whole body was alive with the electricity of their connection and as his tongue sought out hers, she could not help but feel for the first time in her life like the lady she feared she would never be.

 _Gods, the joys of being loved,_ she thought.

* * *

Consumed by her love for him, Miss Tarth did not notice the unfamiliar face watching them kissing from the upstairs window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, High Valyrian is Latin for some reason. Don't ask me why!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! If you want to leave comments and kudos, I appreciate every single one :)
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	38. Late Nights at the Library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PhD student Brienne Tarth just wanted a quiet place to study, so she chose the University Library. Little did she know that the presence of a horribly attractive biology professor would scupper all her best laid plans...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks so much for reading this collection. This one is a new story derived from a prompt by bussdowntarthiana on twitter. They asked for:
> 
> Professor Jaime and lonely grad student Brienne ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° )
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

The King's Landing University Library remained open twenty-four hours a day, meaning that Brienne could stay as late into the night as she wanted... and Brienne _always_ wanted to. She shared a flat with other PhD students - Margaery and Renly - and Margaery's brother (and Renly's boyfriend) Loras. Most of the time, the four of them got on extremely well, but Margaery, Renly, and Loras also had a love for late night parties, so the introverted Brienne often came to the library to escape when she did not want to socialise.

And to see Professor Lannister.

He was in the Biology Department, while Brienne was a historian, so she had only known his face from his photo on the departmental board. In fact, Brienne had only recognised him the first time she spotted him in the library late one night because Margaery had a habit of calling him the _Hot Prof_ every time that they had passed his picture in the hall.

With hundreds of footnotes to organise, she had barely looked his way.

She only noticed him properly when his appearance in the library had become a pattern. One week, Brienne had done three all-nighters, and each time had spotted him in the same seat, tapping away on his laptop. He had a habit of wearing these abominably cute glasses when reading and always squinted at his screen. Brienne thought he needed to get his eyes tested and often thought about telling him so. However, she didn't want to intrude. Why would the hot biology professor want to talk to the ugly, penniless PhD student? Therefore, it was often only the two of them, but they never said a word to one another.

That had all changed the night of the phone call.

Brienne had been reading a very long (and very boring) article on third century smelting techniques when a phone had rung, disturbing her tranquillity. Looking up, she saw Professor Lannister on the other side of the room, staring at his phone as if it had caught on fire. It took him a few moments to answer, but when he did, he went and hid behind some shelf stacks, clearly hoping he wouldn't disturb Brienne.

Rotten luck.

"You've got to stop calling me."

_Unintelligible chatter._

"How many fucking times?"

_Unintelligible chatter._

"I don't care if you miss me, Cers. I really fucking don't."

_Unintelligible chatter._

"I don't love you. I don't want you. You cheated on me. Why would I ever take you back?"

_Unintelligible chatter._

"I don't care! Goodnight!"

If it had been a landline, Professor Lannister would have slammed it down on the receiver, but as it wasn't, he could only let out his frustration by spitting out a string of expletives. Shocked that someone was exhibiting such passion in the library, Brienne looked up, just at the moment Professor Lannister came back around the shelf.

Their eyes met.

"What are you staring at?" he growled, as if he were a caged, feral animal.

_You._

Yet she did not vocalise that thought; instead, Brienne looked back at her work. At her display of deference, he stalked back to his seat, a dark cloud over his head. As he had his back to her, Brienne could not help but stare.

 _I wonder who he was talking to?_ Brienne mused. _It sounded like an ex-girlfriend or an ex-wife... but why would someone cheat on him? He's gorgeous._

Wanting to concentrate on her work, Brienne turned back to her laptop, but found herself deeply distracted by the fact that Professor Lannister kept tapping his pencil on his notebook.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

Brienne forced herself to look at the laptop once more, blinking so she could focus on smelting processes.

_In the third century AC, methods of producing Valyrian Steel had been long lost, although it is known that at least two swords were re-forged from Valyrian Steel during this period; Oathkeeper and Widow's Wail..._

It was no good, Professor Lannister kept tapping.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

Part of Brienne wanted to tell him to be quiet, but another felt that he probably had a lot to worry about, given his mysterious phone call and his general agitation. Consequently, when she went for a quick break to refill her water bottle, she stopped at the vending machine and picked up two chocolate bars; one for him, one for her. On returning to the reading room, when she deposited her gift next to his laptop, he looked up at him, his eyes wide. Brienne lost her courage; he really was too beautiful.

"What is that for?" asked Professor Lannister, looking up at her in surprise.

Brienne shrugged, trying to downplay how much she was blushing. "I don't know... I just thought you could do with something sweet."

"Something sweet..." he mused, looking down at the chocolate bar as if it would burn him. It took him a few seconds, but eventually he picked it up. "Thanks... err... I don't know your name."

"It's Brienne," she mumbled, not able to meet his eye. "Brienne Tarth."

He smiled at her - all dimples and teeth - which Brienne would have thought flirtatious if she didn't look at herself in the mirror every day.

"Well, _Brienne Tarth._ Thanks for the chocolate."

Suddenly feeling very exposed under his green-eyed gaze, Brienne gave him a quick nod and jogged back to her desk, determined to focus on ancient smelting practices. Unfortunately, that was the evening that she noted how you could see Professor Lannister's perfectly formed back muscles through his shirt in the dim lighting, so got nothing done at all.

* * *

Two weeks later, Brienne had a deadline for a conference proposal due, so stayed up two nights in a row frantically trying to get it ready. Professor Lannister was sitting in his usual chair, working on whatever he was working on. When Brienne entered, he gave her a nod of recognition and said, "hey, Tarth."

"Hello Professor Lannister," replied Brienne, smiling at him awkwardly before dashing to her seat. If she looked at him too long, she would melt. Once she had moved passed him, Brienne heard Professor Lannister let out a little chuckle. Too nervous to look back and ask what he was laughing at, she just continued to her seat, determined to get things done.

It was hard to concentrate on her conference proposal over the next two days, as Professor Lannister was there both nights. And it wasn't how it usually was, either. This time, he kept looking over his shoulder at her and smiling. During the first night, Brienne enjoyed this somewhat, even though it made her blush. The second night, it just irritated her. She had to get this proposal done, and she was tired... so, so tired... if he would just stop looking at her... she could finish her work and go home to sleep... sleep... sleep...

Brienne opened her eyes. Light was streaming in through the library windows, which told her it was at least the early hours of the morning. She checked her phone; it was six am. Groaning that she had wasted a whole evening, Brienne went to sit up, but found a blanket had been draped over her shoulders. She looked at it confusedly, before a voice interrupted.

"You looked cold."

Lifting her head, Brienne discovered that Professor Lannister was over at his usual table, packing his things away, all the while gazing at her with that megawatt smile of his.

Once again, Brienne blushed. He always succeeded in making her feel hot. "Thanks... but I didn't need to sleep. I just needed to get my conference proposal finished."

"Third century weaponry?" he asked casually, putting his laptop into his bag.

Brienne's eyes widened. "Yeah... it is for a _Women in War_ conference. How did you know that?"

Professor Lannister shrugged, but at least had the good grace to break eye contact.

The answer came to Brienne at once. "Have you _looked me up,_ Professor Lannister?"

At her incredulous question, Professor Lannister smiled, and Brienne could not tell if it was mocking or affectionate. "I might have done, Tarth. What of it? You have a Student Research Profile; I was just making use of university resources."

Brienne was so baffled by this admittance, that she just kept staring at him. "I... I... I..."

"See you around, Tarth," he smirked, slinging his rucksack over his shoulder.

All out of defences given how flustered she felt, Brienne just about managed to bark back. "My name is _Brienne,_ Professor Lannister!"

"And mine is Jaime," he replied, his eyes twinkling as he looked at her. "Just Jaime."

He left the room before Brienne could say anything else.

* * *

After that, Brienne saw Professor Lann - _Jaime_ \- nearly every time she went to the library, and it left her barely able to concentrate on her work. One day, he gave her a chocolate bar when he went to the vending machine to return the favour, and on another, asked her extended questions about the scientific method in third century Westeros. Every single time their eyes met he smiled at her, which just left Brienne blushing in confusion. Men like Jaime Lannister did not acknowledge Brienne's existence; to guys like him, she might as well be a piece of furniture, or a pavement slab. Yet every time she saw him in the library, they exchanged pleasantries or sometimes more.

"What are you doing here tonight, Brienne?

Brienne tried to look nonchalant, even while her heart was hammering out a song that sounded suspiciously like _I'm here to see you._ "Oh... my housemates are having a party and I wanted to avoid it. They can be a little raucous."

 _Jaime_ chuckled. "Does that make you middle-aged or a grandma?"

"I... I... I..." she began to mumble, before looking down at her work. "You haven't been to one of Margaery's parties."

"No, I haven't," grinned Jaime, running one hand through his luscious blond hair, "but I want to. They sound fun. Maybe you should invite me? We could go together."

Brienne had let out a derisive snort at that. "Oh gods, you don't want to go to one of those parties, I promise you."

"Why not?" replied Jaime, his smile slowly dimming to be replaced by a look of slight irritation. "It could be fun; and, anyway, it would take my mind off the divorce."

They hadn't spoken about whatever was going on in Jaime's private life since the loud phone conversation, and Brienne was not about to start now. It was none of her business, even if she did find him insanely attractive. Consequently, she just waved a dismissive hand at him. "Oh, I assure you, late night library sessions are much more to your taste. Much more fun."

 _And that way,_ she thought, _this whole thing will not be exposed to the light, and I can pretend that this is mine for a few moments longer._

* * *

Brienne knew the strange acquaintance that she and Professor Lann - _Jaime_ \- had built up in the library could not trespass outside the building's walls, or the dark hours of night. There was the fact that she and Professor Lann - _Jaime_ \- would just look so incongruous together in the cold light of day that people would laugh, even before getting to the thorny issue of their respective roles at the university. He was a professor of biology, she a history PhD student. Surely if they became more than friends it would break a departmental rule or something? Brienne thought she should look it up.

 _Actually, that would be a pointless waste of time,_ she concluded. _It is not like anything is really happening._

After a few weeks more of this strange, late night frisson with Professor Lannister, Brienne was walking across campus with Margaery heading towards the Targaryen Lecture Hall. A visiting professor on Dothraki fashion was giving a lecture on the subject and Margaery had been interested, so Brienne had tagged along. Their conversation was not yet on cerebral things, however, as Margaery was lamenting the lack of fuckable men in King's Landing.

"I thought you had that thing going on with Jalabhar Xho?" said Brienne, unable to keep up with Margaery's love life at the best of times. "Weren't you going on about how sensual he was only a couple of days ago?"

Margaery shrugged, seemingly dismissing the suggestion. "He's fun, but there is only so long you can take his irritating pining for his homeland. I'm like... it's not hard, you can catch a plane straight from King's Landing to the Summer Isles. I went there on a sun, sea, and sex weekend a few years ago."

Brienne had been to the Summer Isles too, although her visit was more sun, sea, and ancient ruins. She tried to pretend that didn't hurt. "Well, you could always try online dating."

At that suggestion, Margaery looked as if Brienne had just suggested she sacrifice herself to the gods. "Oh no, no, no. I am Margaery Tyrell. Men I want come to _me_ ; I do not go to _them_."

And then, as if he had been summoned, Professor Lannister appeared in the distance. As usual, he was wearing his cute little glasses, although he was better dressed than he normally was during their late night meetings in the library. He was wearing designer jeans, polished brogues, and a smart shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Brienne found that her mouth was going a little dry.

"Speak of the devil," Margaery purred, her eyes latching on to Professor Lannister as quickly as Brienne's own did. "It is _Hot Prof_?"

Brienne tried to play dumb. "Who?"

Margaery rolled her eyes. "You know, _Hot Prof._ Professor Lannister. The guy on the biology department board that everybody drools over. He's just over there."

"Oh," said Brienne, trying to sound disinterested. "Him."

"I think he's coming this way!" smiled Margaery, running a hand through her hair.

"I doubt it..."

"No, he really is! Look!"

Kicking herself inwardly, Brienne came to realise Margaery was right. Professor Lann - _Jaime_ \- was walking down the same path as them, heading straight towards the pair. Brienne sighed internally. Now was the point in time when her fantasy collided brutally with reality; undoubtedly, he wouldn't even notice her and would just walk on by. Their little word existed only during dark hours in the library, after all.

Yet, when Professor Lannister drew close enough to pull himself out of his daydreams and spot her, his green eyes grew large and he smiled at her. "Hey Brienne."

Blindsided, Brienne arranged her mouth into vocalising a response. "Hey J-J-Jaime."

"I'll see you around," he replied, before walking past. He clearly had something important to do.

Utterly shell-shocked by the fact that _Jaime_ had acknowledged her existence outside the library, Brienne was only pulled off Cloud Nine and back into reality when Margaery gave her a sharp nudge in the ribs. "Hey, what was that for?" Brienne grumbled.

"You are on first name terms with _Hot Prof_ and you didn't tell me _?"_ Margaery squawked, pulling Brienne to a halt, "when you _know_ I think he is the sexiest man in the world?"

Not really wanting to get onto Professor Lann - _Jaime's_ \- sexual appeal, Brienne pretended she was disinterested. "Oh, we have just met in the library a few times. It is no big deal."

Margaery looked at her as if she had gone crazy. "No big deal?!?! Trust you to have an attractive man right under your nose and not even care. Are you on good enough terms to introduce us?"

"What?" asked Brienne, her stomach falling as fast as a heavy stone dropped into a lake.

"Ren is doing one of his Broadway night parties in a few weeks’ time... Oh! Maybe I could come with you for a few study dates, you could casually introduce us, I could invite him to the party and me and _Hot Prof_ could go together dressed as the Phantom and Christine."

Although that idea made Brienne feel a little sick, she tried to sound positive in the way that she turned Margaery down. "You don't like late night library sessions, though. And he's always there... _late._ "

"I don't care!" said Margaery, batting away with Brienne's objections. "He's sexy af. Maybe I can persuade him to stop working and I can go and suck him off behind the bookshelves!"

"Marge..."

"Come on Brienne," pleased Margaery, her hazel eyes big and beautiful, "can you please introduce us? Please? I am hot and he is sexy. We are like a match made in heaven."

Her heart fell even further when Brienne realised what Margaery was saying was true. At least her best friend had a chance of being asked to a party by Professor Lann - _Jaime._ Brienne herself had no hope at all.

"Alright," she sighed resignedly, putting away her own hopes. "I'll do it for you."

Margaery let out a squeak of happiness and pulled Brienne into a hug. "Thank you! Thank you! I'm sure this will all go wonderfully!"

 _Not for me,_ Brienne thought ruefully, but then she remembered.

She was not allowed to want things that were too good for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	39. Strangers at a Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne meet at a wedding. Sparks fly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the inspiration for this was a prompt I got on tumblr was for number 22 on the Short Fic Asks, miserable people meeting at a wedding. I hope you enjoy!

Jaime could barely bring himself to watch. Robert's meaty hands were rested on Cersei's arse, his bearded chin was planted on her shoulder, while her dainty arms formed a loop around his neck. Jaime wished it was a noose, hanging them both, but instead they were dancing together as Robert and Cersei, husband and wife.

It was Cersei's first dance at her wedding, and it wasn't with Jaime.

It made him feel sick and so, so sad. His step-sister, his other half, who had promised him there was no one else for her but him, had married another man. With no other choice, Jaime had nothing to do but drink to block out the feeling of his own heart shattering.

He downed a whisky, then asked for another.

"Do you think you should be drinking that much?" asked the barkeep warily, when Jaime slammed down his glass.

"Yeah," he shrugged dismissively. "Why not? The love of my life just married someone else. What else is there to do but drown my sorrows?"

Shut down by that statement, the barkeep poured him another.

Lost, Jaime just stared at Cersei with burning eyes.

* * *

The bride and groom had requested some old jazz classic, with sickly sweet lyrics that made Brienne feel a bit ill. Nevertheless, she had no choice but to improvise around the base chords on the piano while Hyle stood at the microphone, crooning while blowing kisses to the women swaying in the crowd.

" _Oh but you're lovely,_

_With your smile so warm,_

_And your cheeks so soft..."_

Brienne wondered if he had said those kinds of things to the women he was sleeping with behind her back; his old friend from college, the barista at their local coffee shop, the girl he had claimed was "his cousin from the Stepstones". He certainly had never said anything that sweet to Brienne during their three year relationship. In fact, he had often requested doggy style when they were in bed together because her scar "put him off". Of course, she had dumped Hyle when she found out about the cheating - she had that much self-respect at least - but she had not stopped playing the piano for him at weddings. Brienne needed the money, after all, and she got a good cut being his accompanist.

_"There is nothing for me but to love you,_

_And the way you look tonight."_

No matter how beautifully Hyle sang, it still made Brienne a little queasy to look at him, cheating scumbag that he was, so she turned her attention to the audience. She knew the accompaniment like the back of her hand, so Brienne had no fear in letting her eyes trail over the gathered crowd, making up stories for the more eye-catching of them. Brienne could tell from half a mile away that the bride and groom had married for money; she because she wanted a husband with _status,_ and him because he wanted a pretty face to hide all his affairs. The groom's brother - a dour faced man with an even more dour faced wife - looked disgusted by the whole affair, making Brienne wonder if he could see through the facade, while the groom's other brother seemed not to care a jot as he was very enamoured with the brown haired barman.

Yet none of them caught Brienne's attention as much as the blond haired man sitting at the bar, with sad eyes and a broken smile. Golden-haired and beautiful, his haunted gaze made Brienne wonder what his story was.

* * *

After the singer had stopped crooning the first dance song, Cersei and Robert retired from the floor. While Robert went to the high table, Cersei came over to the bar, a curious smile on her face. As he was a weak, weak man, Jaime's heart started hammering in his chest. Cersei was completely silent as she took her place next to Jaime and ordered a gin and tonic. Wanting to demonstrate her restraint, she only turned to him once the glass was placed in front of her and the barman had drifted off to talk to Renly.

Her smile was bright, but vicious.

"You know, this doesn't have to be the end," she purred, dusting a fictitious piece of lint off his shoulder.

Jaime gave her a withering look. "What doesn't have to end?"

"Us," said Cersei quietly, moving closer so she could slip her hand over Jaime's without anyone spotting. "We can be what we always were to one another."

Taking a sip of his whisky, Jaime tried not to look at her. "And what's that?"

"Lovers," replied Cersei, so softly it could have been a kiss. "Robert... is just for show. You and me are real."

Even as he could feel the familiar pull of Cersei - her warm, soft body, her lascivious gaze, her pleasant scent - Jaime knew what she was serving him; poison. Sweet, deadly poison.

He laughed, cruelly. "We were never real, not for a single moment."

"I..."

"Don't Cersei," Jaime replied, trying and failing to hide the hurt. "Don't."

* * *

For the rest of Hyle's set, Brienne enjoyed looking at the golden god in the crowd. He was just so watchable, given the strange mix of sadness and raw, electric energy that seemed to pervade him. The bride came and spoke to him once and, when she did, his eyes filled with something that resembled self-loathing. She did not seem to notice, however, as she rested her hand on his; it was intimate, as if she knew his body as well as her own. The man seemed to know it too, but at least he had the wherewithal to resent her effect on him, even as he was apparently overcome by her closeness.

 _Good god,_ thought Brienne. _He's still in love with her. He's in love with the bride._

Brienne was suddenly immensely thankful that her only tie to Hyle was this stupid job.

* * *

"Fine, do what you want," Cersei said sharply, before finally leaving Jaime alone with his hate, resentment, and whisky. He was grateful for that, at least. He loved her, god yes, like a thousand raging storms, but he would not demean himself to being just yet another planet in her orbit.

He wanted to be her one and only. Was that too much to ask?

At ten o'clock, the lounge singer act finally ended to be replaced by a DJ. The singer, Hyle or whatever his name was, took a bow and then turned to his talented pianist, who he gave small acknowledgement too. Not wanting to be wrapped up in Cersei, Jaime turned to watch them both pack up. The pianist, a blonde haired, blue-eyed Amazon who demanded to be looked at, had been sneaking glances at him all evening, so Jaime was curious what her game was. It was better than engaging in anymore of Cersei's stupid tit-for-tat.

Hyle the singer went for the pianist at once. "How are you getting home?"

"Cab," replied the Amazon as she put away her sheet music. "Why?"

Hyle smiled, in a way he probably thought was flirtatious. "Because I don't like you travelling home alone in the dark, so why don't you come back to mine?"

The woman stared at him disbelievingly. "You fucked a stripper in our bed. Why would I want anything to do with you?"

"You still come and play the piano for me every week," replied Hyle, looking slightly affronted. "I figured you wanted me back."

The woman let out a disgusted scoff. "Well you figured wrong. This gig is just easy money to me, nothing else. I don't love you, I don't want you back, so have all the fun you want banging as many poor women who will sleep with you as possible, because I don't care. The only place you are seeing this face is at next week's Tully-Frey wedding. We are strictly business. Goodnight."

As she stormed away, her blue eyes alight with fury, and Jaime had to admit he was impressed. He wanted to tell her as much when she came and sat down next to him at the bar, but she ignored him in favour of ordering a drink.

"A vodka and coke, please."

* * *

Brienne knew the blond god was watching her as the barman put her drink in front of her, but she tried to ignore him. She was no mood to be ridiculed, not after she had told Hyle to leave her alone so fabulously.

The blond god did not seem to agree, however.

"That is one way to tell your shitty ex to fuck off I suppose," he purred, in a deep chocolatey voice that made shivers run up her spine.

She turned to look at him, which was difficult considering how dazzling his was. "You should try that with your ex."

"My ex?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

"The bride," replied Brienne, before taking a sip of her drink to appear nonchalant, "the one you were talking to earlier."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Cersei is my stepsister."

"Well, whatever. She's still your ex, at least emotionally. I could tell by the way you looked at her."

The sun god let out a self-deprecating laugh. "Am I really that easy to read?"

"I had time to appraise you," replied Brienne coolly. "Hyle had a very long set."

That made him laugh again, but this time it had genuine amusement in it. It was a nice sound; soothing. "Of all the people in this bar, you looked at me," the man said, his green-eyed gazed suddenly feeling as burning as a laser. "Why?"

Taking another swig of her drink in order to think of something to say other than the truth - _you are beautiful and I like looking at pretty things_ \- Brienne only supplied him with her answer once she had steeled herself. "Hyle doesn't like it when I don't pay attention to him. I wanted to piss him off. You should try it sometime."

"What? Pissing Hyle off?"

Brienne rolled her eyes. "No, pissing your ex off. It is fun."

At that, the sun god peered over towards the high table where the bride and groom were sitting. While he was chatting to the best man, her eyes were only for Brienne's new blond friend. Strangely, it almost made Brienne feel jealous.

 _When would a man like him ever see me?_ she thought.

After he had had his fill of looking at his eyes, Mr Westeros turned back to gaze at Brienne, a glint in his eye. "Oh, I could think of one or two things that would piss Cersei off."

"Like what?"

The first part of his answer was a rather lascivious grin, the second was his hands on her cheeks, and the third his lips on hers. Shocked, Brienne's jaw went slack, but she never got around to pushing him away because... _oh..._ it was so, _so_ good...

* * *

Jaime had just been intending to kiss the giantess pianist in order to give Cersei a good show, but then her lips - warm and pliable against his - suddenly lit a fire in the pit of his belly, and he found he could not stop. Her big hands, strong but gentle, bunched in his hair, while he stroked the smooth plane of her back through her soft black shirt. He could tell she was not wearing a bra, and that just sent his imagination into overdrive.

When they broke apart, he looked into her astonishing blue eyes and said something so crazy and unlike himself that he almost laughed. "Come back to my hotel room with me," he said breathlessly through his swollen lips. "Let's fuck with our exes by fucking each other."

At that filthy suggestion, her blue eyes went very wide. "I... I... don't even know your name."

"Does that matter?" he asked, almost desperately.

"Yes," she replied honestly. The unsure expression she was giving him told Jaime that she did not have much experience in having one night stands; but, if the truth be told, neither did he.

"Then my name is Jaime," he supplied, in a hurry to get his words out. "Who are you?"

For a few moments, the Amazon seemed to weigh up her options morally, sexually, and philosophically. Then, she gave him a pained smile. "I'm not that kind of girl."

"And I'm not that kind of guy," Jaime replied quickly, washed away in the moment. "Yet I still think we should do it."

At that, the Amazon started worrying at her lip with her teeth. It only succeeded in reddening it, making Jaime imagine those full lips being used for many other things than talking. In spite of her nervousness, Jaime could see she was thinking about his proposition too.

"Okay," she said eventually, blushing the colour of a strawberry, "but it is a one night thing, right?"

Jaime nodded. "Of course."

"Okay then," she said again, her voice stronger this time. "Let's go fuck our exes... by fucking each other."

* * *

After the deed was done, Jaime fell asleep beside her, his hand resting between Brienne's thighs. She could barely believe what had happened; Cersei and Hyle had both looked apoplectic when Jaime had taken her hand and dragged her off towards the exit. Apparently, on only half a vodka and coke, Brienne could be persuaded by a sexy demigod to go back to his hotel room, let him put his head between her thighs, and then enthusiastically return the favour.

Amazingly, they did it three times in a space of a few hours. The first was to say fuck you to Cersei, the second to Hyle, and the third because Brienne just wanted to hold him and pretend it was love. Nobody had ever touched her so tenderly, after all.

Yet when the morning light started to peep through the curtains, Brienne moved Jaime's hand away and began to get dressed. There was no point in staying; she did not want to witness his reaction once he had realised that he had slept with a beast. Therefore, once she was fully clothed, Brienne blew him one final kiss and left.

She had never even told him her name.

* * *

When Jaime woke up a few hours later, he was less worried about his headache and more about where his Amazon sex goddess had gone. He had started the whole thing because he had wanted to say _fuck you_ to Cersei, but by the time he had his blue-eyed beauty stretched out on his hotel bed, Jaime realised it wasn't about his step-sister at all, but about the connection he had just forged with this woman whose name he did not even know.

That she had abandoned him was a stab in the gut, but Jaime quickly pushed that feeling away.

Yes, he knew nothing about her other than the fact she could play piano and had held him like she loved him, but there was at least one thing he could go on.

The Tully-Frey wedding had ordered a pianist and singer the following weekend, and Jaime was certain he was going to be there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course, Hyle was singing "The Way You Look Tonight", originally from the film Swing Time (1936). As ever, I love comments and kudos, so please consider leaving them!
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	40. Light in the Darkness: Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Working as a nurse at KLU Hospital, Brienne is horrified to discover her latest patient is her ex-fiancé, Jaime, who she has not seen in eighteen years...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks for coming to read this one. I was asked by catherineflowers29 for short fic prompt 40 which was "Exes meeting again after not speaking for years AU". It had the extra request "Stab me HARD" so I decided to go whole hog on the angst with this one.
> 
> WARNING: This one shot has extensive discussion of suicide, so if that is triggering, please skip this one.

It was not the life that Brienne had dreamed of when she was young, but it was the life that she had, so she was determined to be content with it. At the grand old age of forty, she had a job that she loved - a nurse at King Landing's A&E department - and even though the pay was shit, there was nothing that made her happier. She had a son she adored; yes, Brienne had adopted Pod when he was seven, but she loved him as fiercely as if she had given birth to him herself. And she had friends coming out of her ears - Margaery, Sansa, Daenerys, Renly, and Loras - and she could always rely on them to be there for her when she needed them to be. It was true she had two serious relationships under her belt, neither of which had worked out, but she always told herself that was a good thing; Hyle had been cheating on her, after all, and Jaime...

Well, Jaime had smashed, destroyed, devastated, shattered, pulverised, and broken her heart into a million pieces. It was better she did not think of him.

Unfortunately, sometimes Brienne could not help but doing just that. She had been twenty-one and naive when she had agreed to marry Jaime, so therefore twenty-two and heartbroken when he had left in the middle of the night, telling her his heart still belonged to Cersei and nothing she could say would change his mind. In weaker moments, Brienne therefore found herself musing on what would have happened if Jaime had been able to love her the way she loved him. Perhaps she would now wake up beside him every morning, hearing his heartbeat when she laid her head upon his chest. Perhaps they would have had biological children; a boy and a girl with his hair and her eyes. Perhaps she would not have this constant doubt over whether this contentment she felt was not true happiness, just papering over the cracks in her heart that he had put there.

 _Don't think of Jaime,_ Brienne instructed herself that morning as she arrived at work. _It does not do to dwell on the past._

Luckily Brienne had a very busy morning to distract her; there was a woman who had collapsed, so Brienne had to arrange a transfer to the heart ward, and a boy who had broken his arm who Brienne had to put in a cast. Yet she found she could barely focus, as today was one of those days when the only man she had ever loved was on her mind. What would have happened if, twenty years ago, Jaime had found the courage to free himself of the past and married her, instead of running into the snow?

She had just finished bandaging up little Robin, when the alarm went off to tell Brienne that a patient in very dire straits had just been brought onto the ward. Moving as quickly as she could, she ran into the entrance hall, where she bumped into her colleague Margaery, who was ready and able to give her the news.

"We are expecting a man in his early forties with significant injuries after crashing his car just outside Rosby. Sam called and told us to prepare for a noticeable chest injuries, a fractured skull, and extensive damage to his right hand. He will have to be taken to surgery immediately. Doctor Stark has been informed."

Brienne nodded firmly. Since working at KLU Hospital, she had seen similar scenarios many times, and some of them were fatal. If she was not mistaken, there was a very sharp bend in the road just outside Rosby that was a popular suicide spot for fast men in fast cars who lived fast lives who wanted to end it all. Therefore, Brienne was ready for whatever horrific trauma she was about to witness. It was part of her job, after all.

On cue, the two paramedics, Sam and Gilly, wheeled the patient in with great speed. There was clearly no time to waste, so Brienne and Margaery joined in with the endeavour. Sam began to explain at once; a patient's life was on the line.

"He's been flitting in and out of consciousness the whole ambulance ride. We've got to get him to Doctor Stark as soon as possible. He rounded that really sharp bend at Rosby and has significant chest trauma." Nodding, Brienne understood the truth beneath Sam's words. This was no accident. "He has not been awake long enough to give us his name, so someone will have to go through his belongings to see if we can discover his identity and work on contacting his family."

"I'll do it," volunteered Brienne, knowing the procedure like the back of her hand. "Just hand over his clothes and I'll do it when I..."

Halfway through outlining her plan to her gathered colleagues, Brienne looked down at the patient and her words instantly trailed off into nothing.

Jaime was lying on the stretcher unconscious, covered in bruises and looking as if he had been through the wars.

The weight of the truth hit Brienne at once; he had driven his car around the sharp bend at Rosby _with intent._

* * *

Given the extent of his injuries, Jaime was rushed into surgery with Doctor Stark, leaving Brienne with nothing to do but pick through Jaime's belongings trying to find answers. Although her colleagues had looked at her suspiciously when she had first spotted that the patient was the love of her life, Brienne hoped she had managed to hide the truth. In fact, she did not let her emotions overtake her until she was in the backroom searching through his belongings, barely able to see through her tears. He did not have much in his pockets; ten dragons, a flyer for a burger place in Flea Bottom, and his wallet. Steeling herself, she opened the latter, dreading what she would find. Instead, its contents only made her cry harder. Apart from a few credit cards and a coupon for a coffee shop, there was one solitary photo. It had been taken twenty years ago when Brienne and Jaime had gone to the beach together. They were both smiling, looking happier than Brienne remembered them being.

 _Maybe I am just forgetting how good we were for each other, because of all the sadness that followed._

Yet that was not all. Tucked behind a loyalty card for a high end gym in Lannisport, Brienne found a scrunched up piece of paper. It only took her a few seconds to realise that it was what Jaime had written before he had planned to go driving into that wall in Rosby. It made Brienne very sick to realise that Jaime had been feeling such despair, but she eventually managed to summon the courage to read it.

_Dear Tyrion,_

_I'm sorry I had to do it this way, I just didn't feel like there was any other way out. I am sorry I was not strong enough. Tell father to appoint you as the heir to Lannister Industries. You have all the natural talent for the role, and I have never been good enough. And tell him I am sorry._

_Call Cersei and inform her this is not about her. She can go fuck herself._

_If there is one thing you can do for me, it is this above everything. Can you contact Brienne? She's a nurse at KLU Hospital and I think lives somewhere by Visenya's Hill. I want you to tell her I am so sorry from the bottom of my heart, and apologise that I never had the guts to tell her in life. The wedding ring I was planning to give to her is in my bedside drawer. She might want it._

_Tell her I love her._

_Jaime_

* * *

After she had told Margaery to contact Jaime's family, it became a waiting game for him to come out of surgery. Brienne called her father and asked him to pick up Pod after school and look after him for the evening.

"Why?" he asked. "Do you have a lot on at work?"

Brienne tried to find the words to explain. "No, it is just... there is a patient in surgery now that I want to be here for when he wakes up."

"Aww, that's kind of you, starburst," said her dad, and Brienne could almost hear his smile down the phone. "I always knew you would make a good nurse."

The compliment, although well-intentioned, made Brienne feel uncomfortable. "It doesn't feel kind, Dad, it feels selfish."

"Why?" he asked again, this time confusedly.

"Because the patient is Jaime," Brienne replied, barely able to keep her tears at bay. "And all these years later, I still can't help but care for him."

She stayed at the hospital until the end of the shift, and then on after that. It caught the attention of her friends and colleagues. From the limited pieces of information Brienne had given her, Margaery had worked out why she was so concerned about the hospital's newest patient.

"It is _Jaime,_ isn't it?" asked Margaery gently, "your ex-fiancé? _That_ Jaime?"

Brienne did not have any words, so she just nodded.

Jaime eventually came out after a six hour long surgery and, once Doctor Stark said he was well enough for visitors, Brienne had corruptly used her position as a nurse at KLU Hospital to get into his private ward. Margaery had told Brienne to expect the worst - Doctor Stark had been forced to remove his right hand to save his whole arm, after all - but Brienne was not prepared for this. Jaime looked awful; battered and bruised, he barely looked alive. Overwhelmed by the sight of him, Brienne pulled up a chair and sat beside him, brushing his golden hair out of his face.

"It will be alright Jaime, I promise," she said, partly to him and partly to herself. "I promise."

Brienne stayed with him - pouring his water and fluffing his pillows - for such a long time that she barely noticed the hours ticking by. However, this little world of him and her eventually had to be interrupted when Doctor Catelyn Stark entered the room, a concerned smile on her face. Only having eyes for Jaime, Brienne gave her a quick nod as the surgeon crossed the room to the bed, before looking back at him once more. The two women remained in an uneasy silence for some time, as both of them looked down at Jaime Lannister. Although he was beaten and bruised, Jaime still managed to look supremely peaceful as he slept. It had always been his way; even if his heart was broken, he always had an amazing ability to brush off the pain with that charming bravado of his. Brienne wanted to reach out and touch him, to hold his hand, but she commanded herself not to.

 _He's not mine,_ she thought. _Not mine to comfort... never mine._

Once again preoccupied by the past, Brienne only noticed her eyes were welling with tears when Catelyn spoke, forcing her to wipe her face with the back of her hand so the surgeon would not see her upset.

"Margaery has called his family," said Doctor Stark carefully, looking intently at Brienne. "His father and brother are in Lannisport. The father is not interested in coming, but his brother will be on the first flight out in the morning. And his wife... well, she says they are getting a divorce, so it is not her duty to be here for him."

Brienne snorted derisively. "Nothing is Cersei's responsibility. Nothing at all."

 _He was at the corner at Rosby,_ thought Brienne angrily. _There's only one reason why he would be there._

"You do know him then?" asked Catelyn gently, noticing the way Brienne was getting angry.

She nodded. "He's my ex-fiancé. Eighteen years ago, he left me for Cersei."

"Oh."

Silence bloomed once more, but Brienne was loathe to break it. What more could she say?

Eventually, Catelyn came up with something. "Do you think it is good for you to be here, always by his bedside?"

Brienne shrugged. She did not really have an answer herself. "Perhaps not, but I cannot stand to see him suffering alone. It might not be me that he wants... but he's never lost his place in my heart... and I can't leave him now."

Catelyn nodded as if she understood. "Alright, I will leave you with him then."

"Thank you," said Brienne hoarsely, unable to bring herself to look at Catelyn.

A few more moments of silence passed as Catelyn crossed the room, heading back towards the door. When she reached it, she turned to look at Brienne once more. "You know... I don't think he would mind if you held his hand. We always need someone to be our light when the nights are darkest."

Brienne furrowed her brow in confusion, but Catelyn just gave her a small smile before slipping out of the room, leaving her perfectly alone with Jaime.

Her heart began to beat heavily in her chest. She could hardly deny it; for her, the candle still burned, and she so desperately wanted to be his light. So Brienne took his hand in hers and hoped that, when he woke up, he would understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! As ever, I would love to know what you think in the form of comments or kudos :)
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	41. Late Nights in the Limelight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After bumping into graduate student Brienne on campus, Professor Jaime discovers things have become awkward between them back in the library...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thank you so much for coming back and reading this chapter. This is a follow up to Chapter 38, [Late Nights at the Library](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670291/chapters/58724323). It was prompted by anonymous who asked "Pls pls pls continue with the Prof Lannister/student Brienne verse!! I am DYING to know what’s gonna happen next!"
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Brienne had not been back to the library for a week since Jaime had bumped into her on campus. He was not surprised; when she had spotted him approaching her, she had blushed so hard Jaime had briefly worried her head would explode. Yet Brienne had just about managed to mumble a greeting to Jaime while her blandly pretty friend goggled at them both, before picking up her pace and making her attempt to escape.

Thinking over that brief meeting days later, Jaime could not help but smile at the memory of Brienne's blush. It had been so sweet, innocent, and utterly without guile that it had made his jaded cynical heart do a backflip.

_Pathetic,_ he thought, _you are a world-renowned virologist who is an expert in tropical diseases, and are currently in the middle of a battle with your insane ex-wife over our beloved beagles Joffrey, Tommen, and Myrcella. Now is_ not _the time to get a crush._

Yet, being a total dumbass, that was exactly what Jaime found himself doing. He had an _insane_ crush on Brienne Tarth - a first year PhD student with too many freckles and eyes that were just too much (and not to mention her body; she must have been working out since birth, or...) - and regularly replayed little fantasies in his head of going to sit next to her in the quiet, abandoned library and persuading her it would be a great idea for her to kiss him and let him run his hands over those really, _really_ long legs of hers.

Swallowing, Jaime looked back down at his laptop. He had come to the library that evening because he had a report to write and was determined to finish it, not because he was hoping to see Brienne. _Nope._ It was because he and Cersei were both still having a turf war over their house with neither party refusing to move out, so he needed a break from the squabbling and that meant retreating to the library in the evening. That was it; work and Cersei, those were the only reasons he was even here.

Not Brienne at all.

"Oh my god," Jaime muttered the second Brienne pushed open the door into the reading room to head to her usual spot, the words slipping out before he could stop them. This time, she had clearly just come from the gym, and was wearing tight fitness trousers, a crop top, and a KLU hoodie, with her hair tied up in a messy bun. At the sight of her Jaime gulped, but tried to keep his eyes on his laptop.

_Gods, she's so hot,_ he thought lustfully. _And kind. No one else would get me a chocolate bar just because I look a little down. I didn't know hotness and kindness could exist in one person._

Through his peripheral vision, Jaime watched as Brienne and her blandly pretty friend went and sat by one of the other tables on the opposite side of the reading room from him. Feeling as though someone was staring at him, Jaime looked up. To his surprise, both Brienne and her boring looking friend were gazing at him, though the second his eyes met Brienne's, she dropped her gaze. In contrast, her friend smiled at him, all dimples and fluttering eyelashes. It was a teasing grin, almost coquettish.

Jaime looked back at his work. He didn't want to get involved in whatever _this_ was.

* * *

The next day, Jaime returned to the library in the evening. As part of an escalation of his ex-wife's campaign to make his life a living hell, Cersei had invited her current beau to have very loud sex in what used to be their marital bed while Jaime tried to work downstairs. Not wanting to give up on his claim to their house, Jaime had tried to put up with it for as long as possible, but eventually Robert Baratheon's pig-like grunting had got so ridiculous that he retreated to the library for safety once more.

As he anticipated Brienne was there, but once again she was accompanied by the friend who had been there the previous night. As he walked over to his usual desk, Jaime caught Brienne's eye. She looked nervous, but Jaime was not sure why. He had been diligent enough to check the college guidelines; if he and Brienne ended up having a _thing_ , it wouldn't be against the university's rules, as he was not involved in directly supervising or teaching her. They weren't even in the same department, so it wasn't like they were doing anything wrong. Therefore, Jaime did not quite understand the icy distance she was cultivating and tried to get things back to how they had been before.

"Hey Brienne," he said, giving her a nod of acknowledgement.

At the sound of her name, Brienne lit up like a candle. "Hey--"

"Hey Professor Lannister," interrupted Brienne's friend, fluttering her eyelashes as if she had something in her eye. "Or should I call you Jaime? I hear that is what everyone around here calls you."

That comment made Jaime grind to a halt, slightly surprised by the interruption. "Err... I guess," he said slowly, flicking his eyes from Brienne to her friend and back again. While the former was positively glowing, Brienne seemed more interested in fiddling around with the corner of her shirt than paying any attention to him. "It depends, I suppose..."

"On what?" replied the woman, raising an eyebrow at him.

Not entirely sure what to say, Jaime stole another glance at Brienne. She was still purposefully not looking at him, so he couldn't help but wonder what he had done wrong.

"Whether I know you," Jaime said, his eyes flitting back to Brienne's friend. "Only people I've been formally introduced to get to call me _Jaime."_

At that statement, a thrumming line of tension manifested itself in the conversation. The blandly pretty girl's smile faded slightly, as she looked at Brienne out of the corner of her eye. However, Brienne barely seemed to notice that both her friend and Jaime were staring at her, as she was still fiddling around with her shirt. It took a sharp nudge of the ribs to gain her attention.

"Ouch, Margaery!"

"Sorry," said Margaery, straining to keep a smile on her face. "I just thought you could _introduce us."_

A look passed between Margaery and Brienne that Jaime could not quite read, before Brienne sighed and gestured towards him. "Margaery, this is Jaime Lannister, a biology professor. Jaime, this is Margaery Tyrell, a PhD student specialising in history of art."

Given Brienne's disinterested tone, Jaime tried to engage her a little. "I am a virologist--"

"It is lovely to meet you, Jaime," said Margaery suddenly, her smile lighting up once more as she went to shake his hand. She was wearing such a low cut top that when she leant across the table, the angle meant Jaime got an eyeful. Not wanting to look like a lech in front of Brienne, Jaime purposefully looked into Margaery's eyes and not at her Double Ds, he was normally into small and perky anyway. Yet Margaery did not seem perturbed. Instead, Jaime thought Margaery was acting as if she wanted to eat him. He found it strangely unnerving, as it reminded him of Cersei.

Shooting one last look at Brienne - who was now fiddling around with her pen - Jaime gave Margaery a confused half-smile. "Well, it is nice to meet you too, Margaery, but I have to go and do some work now."

"Okay," she replied, leaning back in her chair and sticking her chest out in a way that was purposefully provocative, "but I suppose I'll see you around, I'm planning on doing _a lot_ of studying here in the next few weeks."

Margaery was staring at him so hungrily that Jaime almost felt embarrassed, so began to turn away. "Yeah, maybe we will. I'll see you too, Brienne."

Briefly, Brienne looked up from her pen to give him an anxious smile. "Yeah, see you soon Professor Lannister."

_Professor Lannister._ It hurt more than he thought it would, so he turned away from them both so they could not see his fallen expression. Anyway, he did not feel he could continue to engage with Margaery's coquettish flirtatiousness or Brienne's stilted coolness. Jaime sort of wished they would switch approaches.

_I am here to work, nothing else,_ he told himself as he went to sit in his seat, trying not to dwell on what he had done wrong. _Just work. I don't care if Brienne is ignoring me._

That little lie he was telling himself quickly proved not to be true, as after he finished setting up his laptop, Jaime lifted his gaze to look back at the two women who were now whispering to one another. It took them a few moments to notice he was staring but, when they did, Brienne bit her lip and gazed down at her notebook so intently that Jaime was surprised it didn't spontaneously combust. In contrast, Margaery locked eyes with Jaime and smiled, before picking up her pencil and chewing the end seductively.

Jaime thought she looked faintly ridiculous, but wondered whether he would be nearly so annoyed if it was Brienne giving him the _come hither_ look instead of her friend.

* * *

Over the next few nights, Cersei made it very clear that she intended to claim the house for herself via the medium of elaborate sex games with Robert Baratheon, so Jaime retreated to the comfort of the library in order to do his work. He wanted to have one of those easy chats he used to have with Brienne to clear his mind but, unfortunately, it turned out every time the two of them were there at the same time, so was Margaery.

Margaery Tyrell and her bloody flirtatious winking.

Not really knowing what to do about the situation, Jaime pretended to write a report, even though Brienne insisted on turning up in tight fitting sports gear that made it very difficult for him to concentrate. And then to top it all off, Margaery kept _smiling_ at him in a way that conveyed much more than friendly feelings. It was all so confusing, as nothing was going the way Jaime wanted it to.

And to top it all off, there was no respite to Jaime's torture until, on the third day of this stupid game, Brienne got up to go and search for a book amongst the shelves. Although he was in the middle of marking an essay, Jaime abandoned it immediately to go and follow her. He did not know what he was going to say to her - he was far too impulsive for that - but he knew what he had to do, especially when he saw Margaery shoot him a bewildered look as he dashed past her.

Unsurprisingly, Jaime found Brienne at the other end of the reading room as far away as it was possible to be, hidden by a bookshelf. With her hair tied up, she looked a little like an imperious schoolteacher, which only made Jaime feel very flustered about approaching her. He had been with Cersei half his life, after all; he barely knew how to talk to women, let alone ones he was attracted to!

Clearing his throat, Jaime stepped forward. At the sound, Brienne froze and looked up from the selection of books she was carefully scrutinising. She seemed surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"Searching for a book," Jaime replied, thinking on his feet. "It's a library. That's what people do in libraries."

"Really? You are looking for a book in the ancient weapons section? I thought you were a virologist."

Impressed that Brienne had been paying attention and knew what branch of the sciences he was in, Jaime gave her what he hoped was a charming smile before pulling a random book off the shelf. "Yeah, I was looking for this one," he said, waving it in front of her face as if to prove his point.

" _The Blue Knight: A Biography_ by Podrick Payne," she said, reading the cover aloud. After a few seconds of confused silence, she let out the most adorable little chuckle he had ever heard. "Why do you want a biography of the Blue Knight? Does she have anything to do with rare diseases?"

"No, but she does remind me of you," said Jaime stupidly, before he could stop himself.

Unsurprisingly, Brienne started blushing furiously. Turning away from him, she went scrabbling back to searching the shelves. "Oh... I... err..."

"Have I done something to upset you?" Jaime asked, stepping further forward into her personal bubble. Her blush turned truly rosy at the sudden intimacy. "It's just ever since we bumped into each other on campus, things have been awkward, and I just wanted to check that I hadn't done anything to make things weird between us."

As Jaime had not meant for all his worries to come out so easily, he was taken aback when Brienne answered him with a blue-eyed stare that seemed to contain all the concerns he was carrying in his chest. "Things _have_ been weird," she confessed slowly, as if she were searching for the right words, "but it is not because of you, it is because..."

"There you two are! I wondered where you had gone!"

On the precipice of truth, Jaime frustratedly pulled his gaze away from Brienne and turned to look at Margaery, who had snuck up behind him and was now resting her hand on his bicep. "We're just looking for books," he said huffily. "It is what people do in libraries."

"Which one have you got out, _Professor Lannister?"_ asked Margaery teasingly, taking the book from him with her free hand. " _The Blue Knight: A Biography_ by Podrick Payne. Interesting choice."

"She's an _interesting_ historical figure," he replied, snatching the book back a little forcefully.

In spite of his obvious agitation, Margaery just looked amused. "She _is._ In fact, Brienne has been known to dress up as her at fancy dress parties."

At that exciting revelation, Jaime snapped his head around to gaze at Brienne who, for some reason, now seemed thoroughly ashamed of herself. Jaime did not think she needed to feel embarrassed. The thought of her kitted out as the Blue Knight - all swords, armour, honour, and pure unadulterated strength - seemed an immensely tempting prospect in Jaime's opinion.

"It was no big deal," mumbled Brienne, once again not meeting his eye. "Renly throws fancy dress parties all the time, and it was the only costume that didn't look ridiculous..."

"In _fact,"_ interrupted Margaery suddenly, moving so she stood in front of Jaime, directly between him and Brienne, "Renly is having another one of his parties next week because Theon Greyjoy has just been promoted to junior lecturer in the drama department. You should come, Jaime. It would be fun."

Jaime went to respond, but to his surprise, Brienne cut across him. "I don't think that is a good idea..."

"Of course it is a good idea," said Margaery, not looking at Brienne, but instead keeping her eyes locked firmly on Jaime. "In fact, Jaime could be my special guest. The theme is musicals, so I think it will be easy for you to find something appropriate to wear. What do you think?"

She was smiling at him so expectantly that Jaime felt as if Margaery's offer had trapped him in a corner. Trying to find a resolution to his predicament, Jaime looked at Brienne, hoping she would provide him with an escape route. "Are you going to the party, Brienne?"

"I suppose," she shrugged, as if she was not interested by the idea, "I am Renly's flatmate."

"So you won't mind if I come?" he probed gently. Jaime knew if she really thought about it, Brienne would remember he had asked to come to one of Renly's parties with her before. She would see it as an opportunity to talk. Even if he was technically there as Margaery's guest, he could hang out with Brienne... couldn't he?

"Do whatever you want," Brienne said quickly, finally pulling a book off the shelf, "but I've got work to do."

Without saying another word, Brienne bowled past both him and Margaery, returning to her seat. Jaime wanted to follow - something definitely was wrong with her, he just did not know what - but Margaery had a tight hold of him.

"So, I think you and I should discuss our costume choices, don't you agree?"

If the answer to that question wasn't going to Renly's party dressed as Brienne's future boyfriend, Jaime thought Margaery was pursuing the totally wrong line of inquiry.

"Alright. What are your suggestions?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading. As ever, I would love to hear what you thought of this little chapter through comments or kudos!
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	42. Cello Suite No. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After losing his hand, Jaime cannot sleep due to terrible nightmares. In fact, the only thing that soothes him is the sound of a cello coming through his bedroom wall...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I got this prompt that just spoke to me and I knew I had to write it. It was from anonymous, and asked: "In case you are still accepting prompts. JB are neighbors. Jaime has PTSD from losing his hand (up to you how that happened). When he wakes up screaming from his nightmares it doesn't take long for his neighbor, who he hasn't ever met, to start practicing/playing soothing music with their cello as if to calm him down."
> 
> Here is Brienne playing Jaime [the Prelude from Bach's Cello Suite No. 1](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2CM_J3r-Nt4). Yes, Bach exists in Westeros. I'm not sure how that works.
> 
> Warning for slightly graphic violence in this chapter.

Another night, this one in a new house.

Silence was seeping into his soul, yet Jaime's ears were ringing with the unending noise. When he closed his eyes, he was back in that cellar that stank of piss and marijuana, imprisoned by the Bloody Mummers.

"Daddy is gonna pay us what we ask for, isn't he, to get you back?" growled Vargo Hoat, his yellow teeth bared.

Jaime had shrugged in that supremely confident manner that had since been flayed from his skin, cut away through degradation and pain. "I doubt it. He doesn't negotiate with terrorists." He had not been lying - Tywin Lannister was the most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms, but he did not get that way by being soft on people - nevertheless, Jaime had felt certain no one would really hurt him. He was the golden Lannister heir, beloved of the tabloids and the fashion magazines alike. No one would lay a finger on him, surely?

Yet they had, and Zollo had used a saw.

Jaime had screamed and screamed as the serrated blade cleaved through bone and sinew - blood-curdling and primal - and he did the same again almost every night as he begged for his hand back, cried for somebody to end this unbearable pain. Yet nobody came to help him. Instead, Vargo had laughed and stuffed his bloody, severed hand into a bag, as if it was a present hidden in a stocking at Sevenmas.

"We are going to send this to daddy, and if he _doesn't_ give us the money we are owed, we will cut off more bits of you until he does."

Lost in a world of pain and despair, Jaime had been thrown down onto a mouldy mattress where he had remained, bleeding so badly he was drowing in a sea of blood, until the Watch had come and saved him two days later, finding him inches from death and even closer to oblivion.

Jaime had spent weeks in hospital after that, receiving the best care his father could pay for, but to Jaime it was not enough. His own father had seen him as little more than a chess piece with which to barter for power and prestige. No longer thinking he owed his father anything, Jaime had left the swanky apartment in the city that Tywin Lannister paid for and used the money from the trust fund his mother had left him to buy a house in the furthest corner of the world, where no one would bother him. Tarth was very green and very lonely, so it suited Jaime to the ground. At least here he no longer had to hear his sister's sneers about his disability, even if he ached with longing for someone who cared about him to touch him, to wrap themselves around him as he slept in order to prevent him from returning to that dark and dingy basement every night in his dreams.

One night in particular he was back there, watching Zollo bring out his saw.

"Please... no... don't take my hand. Please... _please..."_

And then he heard it. The only window in the basement was open, letting in the moonlight, but that was not what had caught his attention. From outside came a sound - no, not sound, _music_ \- that seemed to pull at a knot in his chest and force him out of the shadows. It was a series of arpeggiated chords, with broken backs. Spooling out, the pattern then refigured, turning around and around the same tonal anchor. To Jaime, it sounded like the swell of the tide on a beach, or the gentle lulling movement of a mother rocking her baby.

He had no choice but to follow that divine music.

Leaving Zollo and his bloody saw, Jaime walked to the window and climbed through, even though it was small and difficult to traverse. Once he was outside, the music seemed louder, so he chased it down the moonlit road, wanting to hold onto the only peace of beauty he had been allowed in the past few months, where before there had been nothing but pain and violence. The swirling string music felt like an end and the beginning, so Jaime followed it in search of answers. Its conclusions were somewhat unexpected, however, since it led him back to his new house on Tarth. It guided him into the house, up the stairs, and into his bedroom. Once there, Jaime laid on his bed and closed his eyes.

Moments later, Jaime awoke. He was still lying in his bed, but this time he knew what he was experiencing was real; he was not wearing any clothes after all. Sitting up, he shook his head, trying to get the melody that had guided him home out of his head. It took him a few seconds to realise it was a futile endeavour, as he could really hear it, seeping through the wall of the house that was attached to his own.

It was unmistakable. Jaime could still hear those broken chords - reshuffling and reforming with every phrase - and in his conscious state, he was lucid enough to realise that the instrument he could hear was a cello.

 _The person next door is playing a cello,_ he marvelled. _Why? For me?_

Perking his ears up, he listened and listened, until the melody took him on another journey back into sleep. Yet, this time, he did not return to the pain and fear of Vargo Hoat's basement; this time, he went nowhere at all.

Peace.

* * *

For every night for a week, Jaime heard the same melody bleeding through the walls. In a strange way, the cello sounded like a human voice, so he could imagine that the person on the other side of the wall was talking to him. Perhaps they were telling him that everything would be okay and holding his hand as they did so. Maybe things were even more intimate than that; perhaps she was asking to embrace him, to kiss his cheeks, and run her fingers through his hair.

It was a nice thing to imagine, anyway.

Jaime became so familiar with the tune that by the second week, he could hum it to himself. Wondering what it was, he tried searching for it on the internet, but never had any luck.

In fact, Jaime only got his answer one day when he realised he had nothing in his fridge and that he needed to go and get some food. Dressing in a designer shirt and jeans that had been given to him after a _Vogue Braavos_ shoot, Jaime hid his stump in his sleeve and pulled it close to his chest. Being vulnerable outside scared him, after all.

Not able to carry much, Jaime had returned to his house an hour later with a small bag of groceries mostly made up of tinned soup and pasta. Feeling lazy, he was not sure he would cook any of it, but the journey had given him a momentary sense of purpose.

It was then he saw her.

Outside his neighbour's house was a woman in a long black dress and heels, wheeling a cello case behind her. Her limp blonde hair was styled elegantly in a high bun, and she had almost applied enough make-up to obscure her freckles. There was no hiding her eyes though; they were gemstones.

"You," said Jaime hoarsely, as he recognised her as his mysterious cellist.

Having been absorbed in her own thoughts, the woman was startled by the sound of his voice. When she looked up at him, blinking, her nerves were palpable. "Me?"

"You are my neighbour, right?" Jaime asked, taking in how tall, muscular, and well built she was. In every respect, he thought she was quite miraculous.

Given that he was standing at his garden gate, the woman seemed to put it all together quite suddenly as Jaime continued to stare at her in amazement. "Oh, yes. I'm... err... Brienne Tarth. You must be Jaime Lannister."

He raised an eyebrow at her, curious that she knew his name. "How do you know that?"

"Everybody knows you, you are a celebrity," she mumbled, blushing, pink and pretty. "And sometimes I hear you at night. You speak... and scream."

Jaime's gaze dropped to the ground. He felt quite disgusted with himself at that confession; while Brienne gave him the gift of beautiful music, he repaid her with animalistic cries of terror. It shamed him to the depths of his soul.

Perhaps realising that she had upset him, Brienne tried another tack. "Don't feel bad, it's just I am awake at night and hear you, that's all. And the walls are very thin."

"I know," replied Jaime, taking that statement as an invite. "I hear you playing the cello at midnight. What piece is it that you are practising?"

Just as he had moments before, she too looked ashamed of herself. "The Prelude from Bach's Cello Suite No. 1. It is a lovely piece of music."

"It is," Jaime agreed, making a mental note to himself of the need to download the piece onto his phone. "Why do you play it at night?"

Brienne shrugged, her cheeks reddening. "My boyfriend Hyle works nights; he says the sound of my cello is like a cat yowling, so it is the only time I can practice without him in the house."

Jaime furrowed his brow confusedly. "Is he deaf? Or does he just not appreciate good music?"

Now it was her turn to look confused. "I'm not very good. I just play in the local amateur orchestra. I'm nothing special..."

"You are the only reason I get any peace at night," Jaime snapped back, irritated that she thought so little of her talent, that could only have been given to her by the gods that he didn't believe in. "The only reason at all. Where are you going with your cello now?"

"Umm... the orchestra have a concert on tonight in raising money for the local children's home," she admitted, resting her cello against her car. "They are selling tickets on the door, I think... if you want to come."

"Are you playing the Prelude from Bach's Cello Suite No. 1?"

Brienne nodded. "And lots of other stuff. The focus is baroque classics, so is a little niche, but if..."

"I'll come," Jaime announced, because he was an impulsive person who liked doing spontaneous things when haunted by cello music played by a literal angel. "Just let me dump my shopping inside and I'll be right with you."

"Okay," replied Brienne, looking a bit baffled, although not turning him away. It was the closest thing he had had to human sympathy in weeks.

Once all the food was away, Jaime came back outside. Brienne had loaded her cello up into the back of her car already but seemed to be waiting for something. "Do you need a lift?" she asked. "The community centre is over on the other side of the island. It could take some time by public transport."

"Sure, sounds great," Jaime replied, already half inside her car. "I brought some sweets for the ride. I feel I should give you _something_ to show my thanks."

Yet how could any gift convey his gratitude to her? Brienne had given him peace and, once they arrived at the concert, she lifted him up and briefly let him live on a higher plane. Once again, she played Bach's Cello Suite No. 1 with the eyes of the crowd on her, her long delicate figures working hard as she bowed out the musical sentences.

It was breathtaking, and Jaime was so entranced he didn't know how to tell her.

That night, after the two of them had said goodbye on the shadowed driveway, Jaime returned to the dark solitude of his house and tried to go to sleep. He was scared he would return to Vargo Hoat's world, but he was only a few seconds into his old nightmare when he got woken up by the sound of Bach's Cello Suite No. 1 floating through his bedroom wall.

As she no longer had any reason to practice given that the concert had been performed, Jaime knew Brienne was playing for him, so he got out of bed and went to curl up by the wall. Pressing his ear against the wallpaper, Jaime listened as she spoke to him, and imagined her wrapping her arms around him and telling him everything would be okay.

When she finished, Jaime applauded, his hand colliding with his stump. It was the only thanks he could give her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! As ever, I would love to hear what you think in a comment or kudos. I do think this piece sounds strangely like a person talking, so that is what I was trying to convey.
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	43. Sharing Spit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During their end of university camping trip, Jaime and Brienne get left alone around a campfire...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I did a vague poll on what I should write next in this series, and the answer came back quite overwhelming as Part 3 or Professor Jaime/Student Brienne, but this little bit of fluff suddenly came to me, so I thought I would post.
> 
> It is based on a post from tawktomahawk who asked for number 9 from the Movie Quote Mash Up:
> 
> 9) "You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how.“ - Gone with the Wind (1939)
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

For some reason, everyone had decided going skinny dipping in the lake was the best thing they could do to round out their weekend camping.

"It will be a great idea!" cheered Cersei, getting up from her position in front of her tent. "Is there a better way to celebrate graduating from university than doing something truly _wild?"_

Margaery looked at Cersei sceptically. "An all-expenses paid trip to Braavos?"

"Drinking a very big bottle of wine?" suggested Renly.

 _A good book,_ thought Brienne, sitting rigidly on her log before the fire, toasting a marshmallow. _Or even walking over hot coals. Literally ANYTHING will be better than skinny dipping._

At everyone's disinterest in the skinny dipping idea, Cersei rolled her eyes. "Gods, you guys are so BORING."

"Or maybe we just have a sense of dignity, Cers," said her twin, Jaime, as came out of his tent, rummaging around in the open bag for another marshmallow. Being a weak, weak person, Brienne kept her eyes on him as he came to sit on the log next to her; with his golden hair and green eyes, he really was irritatingly beautiful. She only looked away when he caught her eye, smiled, and winked.

 _Don't go there,_ Brienne told herself. _He is Jaime Lannister. It is stupid to waste your heart on someone who can never want you back._

Despite the fact that Cersei's skinny dipping suggestion had initially gone down like a cup of cold sick, the mood changed when her boyfriend Robert piped up. "I'm game, and so is Renly once he stops being such a little bitch."

"Hey!" interjected Loras, Renly's boyfriend. "You can't say that! That is homophobic!"

"I'm not being homophobic!" said Robert dismissively, "I am just calling Renly a coward for not coming skinny dipping. He's being boring... like Stannis would be if he were here."

Margaery let out a huff of amusement at that. "In Stannis' defence, he is the only one of us who is going to be _employed_ come September. He's doing his Graduate Scheme stuff at the moment, isn't he?"

"Who cares about employment?" moaned Cersei, flicking her hair over her shoulder. "Father will find me a job in the family business at some point, but now I care about having fun, and I think we should go _skinny dipping."_

As if to labour her point, Cersei took her cardigan off and threw it on the floor, before Robert took off his leather jacket in solidarity. Renly's eyes boggled. "You can't be serious!"

"I am," replied Robert, unbuckling his belt, "and if you had any sense of fun, Ren, you would too. What about you guys? Margaery? Loras? Jaime? Brienne?"

Margaery and Loras exchanged a look, before the former shrugged and got to her feet. "I refuse to be outdone, so why not?"

Surprised, Brienne snapped her head around in horror to look at Margaery. The pair of them were close friends, and Margaery was the only reason Brienne had even got an invite on this stupid camping trip in the first place... well, her and Jaime. Therefore, to Brienne, it felt as if she were being deprived of an ally as the thought that Margaery was going to cave to Cersei Lannister's most ridiculous plans in a bid not to be outshone only made Brienne nervous.

Starting on the buttons of her shirt, Margaery grinned cheekily at Brienne. "What? It's the last summer before we have to be adults. Why not?"

Persuaded by this highly sentimental logic, Renly got to his feet too, sensing the tide was turning against him. "Alright, I'll come, but only if Loras does."

Although Loras did not look totally enthralled with the proposition, given that everyone else seemed to be turning towards the plan, he sighed and eventually agreed. "If I must."

With Cersei, Robert, Margaery, Renly, and Loras all in agreement, the group of them made to head towards the lake. However, Cersei froze when she realised that Brienne and Jaime were still sat on the log beside each other. Her smile grew ravenously. "Not coming, Tarth?" she said cattily. "I thought you would _relish_ the chance of baring all to the world."

Everybody gathered knew about what had happened with Ron Connington - the video had been all over social media, after all - so coming from Cersei, that was a very pointed barb. To counteract it, Brienne just stared at her marshmallow, which was now turning black in the fire. "No, I'm alright..."

"Are you sure?" replied Cersei, poking harder. "Because I know we would all _love_ for you to join us."

There was nothing inviting in that statement, despite its seemingly friendly words, so Brienne continued to refuse. "It's fine, I'll stay here and guard the tents."

"Are you sure you are sure?" asked Margaery, building on Cersei's teasing with something a little kinder. "We don't want to leave you here alone."

Brienne was about to reply with a promise that she honestly did not mind, when Jaime cut across her. "It is okay. I'm going to stay here with her, so there will be two of us."

"You are?" said Brienne in shock, turning to look at him with wide eyes. "But don't you want to go... you know...?"

"What?"

Brienne took a steadying breath, before lowering her voice. "Skinny dipping?"

Perhaps it was her nervous tone, or the slight vibrato in her voice, but for some reason Jaime started to laugh. Brienne didn't understand; Jaime Lannister had a body that looked as it had been carved by the gods, and a face that belonged to an angel. Why would he want to stay back at the tent with her, when skinny dipping offered him the chance to show off the fact that he was a literal demigod?"

"Actually, wench, I'm not too keen on getting my kit off," he smirked. "I've eaten too many marshmallows this weekend. I think I'll stay here and eat some more with you."

At that statement, Brienne could not help but scrutinise him intently. Not only had he used his nickname for her - _wench_ \- rather softly (which was at odds with its origins as a taunt), but he was smiling at her as if he noticed her. Not just saw her, or spotted her, but _noticed_ her as someone of interest. It seemed strange because, in Brienne's worldview, men like Jaime Lannister did not _smile_ at women like Brienne Tarth. Quite the contrary, in fact; they laughed and teased and ridiculed. Therefore, ever since she had started to develop this unfortunate crush on him, Brienne had been trying to stay away. She made sure she was never alone one-on-one with him, and always sat herself at the furthest possible point from him at a group hang. Otherwise, if he got too near... surely Jaime would _notice_ her feelings, and if he did work out how she felt...

Well, walking over hot coals sounded like a pleasurable experience.

"Oh, you don't have to..." she began, trying to convince him to go with the others, but unfortunately for her, Cersei had a mouth bigger than a black hole, so managed to talk over Brienne.

"Fine, be boring with Tarth, the rest of us are going to the lake," she scoffed, flicking her cascade of blonde hair over her shoulder. "Come on guys, let's go!"

Apparently buoyed up by the prospect of skinny dipping, the rest of the group dashed off, leaving Brienne very alone with Jaime. In spite of the fact Brienne tried to shoot Margaery one last imploring look to get her to stay, her friend did not seem to recognise Brienne's nervousness, so disappeared with the others.

 _Fuck,_ thought Brienne as she watched Margaery go, trying not to think of the man beside her. _I've got to pull myself together. I cannot let him know how I feel._

Internally parroting this mantra to herself, Brienne was only pulled into the reality of the situation when Jaime tapped her on the shoulder. "Wench, your marshmallow is on fire."

Quickly looking back, Brienne spotted that Jaime was indeed right, and her marshmallow was now aflame. Not having much choice, she chucked it and the stick she was using to hold it on the campfire, then let out a disappointed sigh.

"So much for that."

Jaime raised an eyebrow at her, smiling. "We have more marshmallows, your dreams of a well-made s'more are not over yet. Come on, do you want a white or pink one?"

"I don't have a stick..." she replied lamely.

"You can share mine," Jaime said, before pulling his marshmallow out of the fire and eating it with one gulp. Unable to stop staring at his mouth as he sucked the marshmallow down, Brienne barely noticed that he had stuck another on the stick until he handed it to her. "There you go, marshmallow buddy."

Not liking the intimacy of the gesture, Brienne waved her hand at him dismissively. "No, we can't. It is unhygienic."

"Lots of people share spit, wench," said Jaime, his tone warmed by amusement. "Don't you fancy sharing mine?"

There was something risqué in that comment, so Brienne averted her gaze and stared back into the fire. "Yeah, but people who share spit are really close."

"We're really close," he shot back.

"Yeah," she conceded again, knowing that Jaime was just stating the truth. Ever since Jaime had literally punched Connington, Brienne had come to regard him as one of her best friends. Nevertheless, she drew her arms around herself as a kind of primitive protection. She could not bear him laughing at her or, even worse, his pity, if he found out the truth of her feelings. Therefore, she verbally pushed him away. "We _are_ close, but not enough to share spit."

"Why not?" he asked, his expression suddenly quite intense. "We could share spit if you want."

She was not quite sure why he was getting so het up about sharing a marshmallow stick. Therefore, she decided to put him off by being provocatively contraversial in the way he often inspired her to be. "I don't share spit with any guys for the same reason I don't go skinny dipping on the last day of summer."

As she was so sure he would understand what she meant, Brienne was surprised when Jaime furrowed his brow. "What?"

"Don't play the idiot, Jaime, it doesn't suit you," she said scornfully, tightening her arms across her chest. "It is obvious why I didn't want to go skinny dipping with your sister and Margaery."

Jaime blinked and then there was a pause that spoke of his confusion. "Err, I'm sorry, it's really not obvious."

"Oh yeah," said Brienne sarcastically, "it's not obvious to the guy who once told me I was much uglier in daylight. Of course it's not obvious."

At that statement, Jaime's face fell, which Brienne found it quite surprising. Ever since they met during the first week of University, Jaime had constantly said rude things to her; at first it was plain insulting, but she had thought there was now something more affectionate in it. Stewing in the unfolding awkwardness, Jaime nibbled his bottom lip for a few seconds, which just made Brienne want to punch his mouth with her own in her burgeoning annoyance.

"Do you still hold that against me?" he asked, gazing at her uncertainly. The vulnerability that danced across his face had Brienne imagining tangling their tongues together, in order to reassure him. If he kissed her, she would find it comforting, at least.

 _Reassurance,_ thought Brienne derisively. _As if anything I did would ever make him feel more confident._

Even so, Brienne tried to make him feel better. "I don't hold it against you. We're sort of friends, aren't we?"

"Not sort of friends," replied Jaime, reaching across and slinging a relaxed arm around her shoulder. It made Brienne tighten up at once. "We're best friends."

Although it felt as if someone had stuck their hand down her throat and physically pulled out the word, Brienne eventually managed to choke out, "yeah. Best friends."

"Well then," Jaime grinned, shuffling ever so slightly closer so he could lift his other arm and pull her into a definite hug. "You can trust me to tell me why you don't share spit with guys... or go skinny dipping with Margaery and my sister."

Feeling very tense, Brienne wanted to wiggle away, but it was so very nice to have Jaime this close to her that she found herself relaxing into his embrace. Cocooned in his warmth and feeling safe, Brienne's truth slipped out surprisingly easily.

"Because I'm ugly."

"Don't say that."

"Why not?" answered Brienne, getting defensive. "It is true. It was the reason Connington gave when he tricked me into getting naked and filming it. _I can't believe you were stupid enough to think I would sleep with an ugly freakish virgin like you,_ that's what he said. And that's the only review I've ever got from a man, so I'm going to take it as fact."

Jaime shook his head, looking irritated. "That's just one stupid idiot's opinion. There are loads of guys out there who would love the chance to be with you... to share your spit and go skinny dipping with you."

"Oh yeah?" said Brienne sceptically, just about succeeding in keeping her eyes from filling with tears. "Then why have they never made themselves known? Why am I scared of being touched, because I think it could only be a joke, if there is supposedly this secret army of guys who would love to be with me? Why am I still an unkissed virgin at twenty-one, with no prospect of that ever changing?"

Seeing how upset she was, Jaime tried to say something to make her feel better. "You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how," he said firmly, as if this was the obvious outcome to her predicament, as if what people deserved in life actually mattered.

Brienne tried not to roll her eyes, but it was very difficult. He could be so intensely idealistic sometimes. "Come on Jaime, this pep talk is very sweet and everything, but it is highly unlikely that some guy is going to swoop in out of nowhere who wants to kiss..."

She never got to finish her sentence, however, because the next second, Jaime's lips were on hers and _he_ was kissing her, in a way that made her feel quite weak but so powerful at the same time. Not one to miss her chance, Brienne grasped at his shirt, which only encouraged him to tease her mouth open with his tongue. Although she was excited, Brienne did not really know what to do, so she decided to hedge her bets and suck on his tongue gently. That elicited a little moan from him, before he pulled away, breaking the kiss entirely.

"Sorry," she mumbled, going the colour of a beetroot. "I don't really know what I'm doing. I'm sorry if that was bad, or if I..."

"I'll kiss you whenever you want, wench," Jaime declared, looking so ardent and beautiful it nearly made Brienne cry. "I'm not the most experienced guy in the world, but I do know some things, and I'm willing to show you... if you want to kiss me back."

"I want to," said Brienne quickly, before internally kicking herself at how eager she sounded.

However, Jaime's smile was so full of happiness that her worries drained away at once. "Good, because I want to kiss you too."

Forgetting every sceptical thing she had ever thought about love and romance, Brienne decided to embrace the stars, the campfire, and Jaime Lannister. She had thought he would be the teacher of the two of them, but he was all tongue and enthusiasm, which just made her heart dance.

And then, they spent the rest of the night sharing spit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading. As per usual, I would love to hear what you think in the form of a comment or kudos :)
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	44. Late Nights in Leggings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Professor Jaime agrees to go on a date with Margaery, Student Brienne struggles with how to deal with him at Renly's party...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I did a poll to see which 'verse in this series people wanted me to update next, and this came out the clear winner. This is in response to djlouat who asked "I'm gonna have to *BEG* you for a follow-up to chapter 41...what happens at Renly's party?!?!?!?!"
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

Margaery Tyrell had always been the type who wore sexy costumes to fancy dress parties, not authentic or historically accurate ones.

"I don't think lionesses wear gold bikinis, Marge," said Brienne from her position on Margaery's bed, as her flatmate tried on her bikini with added tassels, knee high boots, and cat ears. "I think they have a killer instinct and a protective maternal instinct, which doesn't leave a space for metallic swimwear."

Margaery made a snorting sound. "I'm not an actual lioness, Brienne, I'm a _sexy_ lioness. I don't want to accurately portray the species like I am in a documentary or something. I'm going to Renly's fancy dress party where I am trying to _pull._ I don't want to actually look like a feline."

"I don't get why you want to dress like a lioness anyway," said Brienne sullenly, irritated at how amazing Margaery looked in her stupid bikini. Brienne did not get the option to wear sexy fancy dress, given that she normally looked like the Jolly Green Giant's long lost cousin. "This is a _musicals_ party. I'm not getting the link."

"Jaime and I are going as Simba and Nala, _duh,_ " said Margaery, posing in front of the mirror. "I saw the _Lion King_ last year, so I know it is an opportunity to show off a bit of skin... and Jaime _needs_ to see some of my skin if I am going to persuade him that we should fuck in the bathroom."

Brienne had thousands of grouchy, irritable things she could have hurled at Margaery in response to that statement, but she kept her mouth shut. There was no point in being angry, upset, or feeling betrayed that Margaery was going to Renly's party with Jai - _Professor Lannister_ \- and she wasn't. It wasn't as if Margaery knew that Brienne had been nursing this awkward little crush on the guy with the cute glasses who had stolen her heart in the library, and as for him... Well, there was no way she could ever expect that someone as wonderful as Jaime would learn to love her. It was stupid to think otherwise. Consequently, she said nothing as Margaery finished fashioning a skirt out of tassels fixed to her bikini bottoms and offered effusive but inane comments when her friend started using the length of her room as a runway.

"Do you think he'll like it?" asked Margaery, striking yet another pose.

"I'm sure he'll love it," Brienne replied honestly. "You look beautiful."

 _And that is what men want, isn't it?_ Brienne thought. _Beauty._

With that thought in mind, when she went to her own room to get dressed in her costume, Brienne was motivated by the need to make other people laugh (and, in a small way, to punish herself for never being good enough to wear a gold bikini and cat ears and go on dates with Jaime Lannister). Consequently, the costume she had picked out was quite unlike Margaery's. Choosing the character she most identified with from the musical theatre canon, Brienne put on silk trousers, a cambric shirt, boots with buckles, a black wide-brimmed hat, and a mask that covered half her face, so she could do an authentic homage to the Phantom of the Opera the first time he takes Christine into his underground lair.

Once she was dressed, Renly poked his head round the door. "Oooh, love the costume, babe. You make a great Phantom."

"Thanks," replied Brienne, knowing that wasn't a completely flattering compliment. "Do you need help with anything?"

Renly gave her a relieved smile. "Can you come and help make cocktails in the kitchen? Loras is laying out the drinks but we bought far too many, so I need help in keeping him under control."

"Alright," she agreed, billowing her cape as she turned around. "Margaery is going to spend hours curling her hair, after all."

Renly laughed knowingly before the two of them headed out to the kitchen, where they found Loras making Piña Colada's. Even though both Renly and Loras were both dressed as drag queens from _Priscilla, Queen of the Desert,_ Brienne paid them no mind because wearing extravagant costumes on nights out was fairly normal for the both of them. On the other hand, Loras did not seem to have the same idea about _her_ costume, as he narrowed his eyes suspiciously as she entered the room.

"The Phantom?" he asked.

Brienne nodded and came over to help him with the drinks. Loras rolled his eyes.

"You know, you don't need to advertise your lack of confidence," he said, banging an ice pack on the side to release the cubes. "You could have come as literally anyone to this party - let your imagination fly - but you decide to put on a mask that covers half your face because you think you should hide away. I promise you, Brienne, you don't."

Not liking having a psychology session over Piña Colada's, Brienne let out a snort of disagreement, just as Renly came to her rescue. "Loras, Brienne can wear whatever she wants..."

"Yes, she can," agreed Loras, "but it always makes me sad that she always comes to our parties dressed as someone ugly, and not ironically ugly; the Phantom, Quasimodo, Shrek..."

Renly went to say something else in her defence, but Brienne shushed him as she derisively laughed at Loras' statement. "The reason I don't come to parties dressed as someone ironically ugly is that there is no irony in my ugliness, Loras."

"You are not ugly, Brie," said Renly firmly, stepping forward in his ridiculous, stunning drag queen costume that made him look more beautiful than she could ever be. Although she appreciated the gesture, Brienne could sense its insincerity, so she just patted him on the shoulder. Sensing that she was trying to brush him off, Renly tried again. "Okay, you might not be the most conventional looking woman ever, but I promise you there are guys out there who will like what you are advertising; you are tall, strong, you work out, you've got great muscles and--"

"Renly, guys who like great muscles on their romantic partners are into _other guys,"_ she said, as if she were the authority on human relationships. "Guys who like girls are into pretty and petite. There's no way those two categories can ever combine."

"Some people are bisexual, Brienne," interjected Loras, rolling his eyes.

That thought made Brienne pause. Was Jai - _Professor Lannister_ \- bisexual? He did go on about how much he loved all those old Arthur Dayne action films, after all.

In the end, however, she shook that thought from her head. She had seen a picture of Jai - _Professor Lannister's_ \- ex-wife when she had stalked his social media profiles, and she was gorgeous. And, on top of that, he had agreed to come to this stupid party with Margaery, who was cut from the same cloth of delicate loveliness. No matter how many lectures on confidence Brienne got from her well-meaning housemates, she could never be a Margaery or a Cersei _,_ no matter how hard she tried. Brienne could never attract Jaime's attention, even if he did like all the muscles on display in an Arthur Dayne film. Therefore, it didn't seem worth it to try to appear something she wasn't. Instead, Brienne would just retreat into all the things she could be; nice, studious, and invisible.

Just like she was in the library when sitting next to Margaery Tyrell.

"Yes, some people are bisexual, but bisexual guys would still take Margaery in her gold bikini any day of the week," said Brienne, trying and failing not to sound resentful.

At her statement, Renly's eyes went very wide. "Wait, are you pissed off with Margaery?"

"No, I'm not pissed off with Margaery," she lied, her tone one of irritation. "But I _am_ pissed off with this conversation. I wanted to come to this party as the Phantom, and now Loras is telling me I shouldn't!"

Putting down the pack of straws he was holding, Loras held his hands up in surrender. "All I am saying is you could at least have come as Sexy Phantom. I hate to see you doing yourself down, Brie."

"I'm not doing myself down! I'm just getting ready for a fancy dress party!" she squawked, right on the edge of genuine annoyance. "So can we please just make these cocktails and talk about something else?"

Sensing the threat of a full blown argument, Renly stepped in between Loras and Brienne and started breezily discussing a new TV show he was watching. Brienne found that immensely reassuring, as it meant she could focus on cutting up the lemon for the cocktails and not on her own inadequacies, or on Jai - _Professor Lannister_ \- and Margaery.

In truth, the two were interlinked.

* * *

By the time the party was in full swing two hours later, Brienne was in a much better mood, mostly because the house was full of people and she had not yet had to deal with the situation that was preoccupying all her thoughts. Jai - _Professor Lannister_ \- was fashionably late, causing Margaery to be quite irritated.

"You'd think he would be excited to see me," she said gruffly, as she stood in the lounge along with Brienne, Renly, and Loras drinking cocktails. "Guys are always all over me, but he is playing this all aloof. Do you think that is normal for him, Brienne?"

Brienne shrugged, trying to feign disinterest. "I don't know, Marge. Professor Lannister and I just chat in the library sometimes. I don't know what is normal behaviour for him."

"Well," huffed Margaery, folding her arms across her bikini top. "You would think..."

At that moment, Margaery's phone (which she was holding in her hand) buzzed loudly, causing her to lose interest in the conversation and look down at it. While Brienne watched her suspiciously, Renly and Loras changed the topic of conversation to Theon, in whose honour the party was being held.

"I'm so happy for him," said Loras cheerily. "Theon has been wanting this promotion for a long time, and I..."

Brienne stopped paying attention when Margaery smiled excitedly at her phone, turned on her heel, and headed out of the room. Even though she knew she should be listening to Loras and Renly's conversation about Theon, Brienne could not help but wonder if Margaery had just had a message from Jai - _Professor Lannister_ \- telling her of his arrival.

Renly nodded along with Loras. "It was definitely Theon's time. I think he's thought of dropping out of becoming an academic altogether at points."

"Oh, that's so sad. Sometimes, that career path seems so unstable..."

Loras' words turned to mush in Brienne's ears as she became distracted from whatever he was saying, because at that moment, Jai - _Professor Lannister_ \- entered the room with Margaery hanging off his arm, looking quite unlike Brienne had ever seen him. Gone was the geeky professor aesthetic, complete with woollen jumpers over shirts and cute glasses. Instead, he was dressed as a lion, and not an authentic lion but a _sexy_ lion. Apart from the tan jeans and matching trainers, all he was wearing was a lion's mane headdress that was draped artfully over his head and shoulders. Yet that was not the most eye-catching thing about him. Golden and beautiful, he was totally shirtless, revealing the most perfectly sculpted chest with an almost artistic smattering of chest hair. All Brienne's blood rushed to her cheeks in a swoop of embarrassment and desire, so when Jai - _Professor Lannister_ \- caught her eye and waved, she froze, unsure of what to do.

She only came back into the room properly when she heard Renly beside her. "Oh, _that's_ why you are pissed off with Margaery."

"What?" snapped Brienne, just able to pull herself away from looking at Jaime to turn to Renly.

Her friend was smiling at her kindly. "Margaery is here on a date with a guy _you_ want to be on a date with, and that's why you were getting all pissy about her golden bikini earlier."

Flustered, Brienne tried to object. "I... you... no that's not... we..."

However, her attempt to disprove Renly's theory was totally derailed by the fact that Jai - _Professor Lannister_ \- was gazing at her warmly, and him and his date were approaching in their general direction.

 _Oh shit,_ thought Brienne panicked.

"Renly," she said sharply, turning to him and shoving her drink in his hand. "Stall them."

"What?"

"You heard me, _stall them,_ " she hissed as Jai - _Professor Lannister_ \- and Margaery came closer and closer. "I'm just not ready to deal with this right now and I need some air... I need to get out of here."

Before Renly or Loras could get a word in edgeways, Brienne dashed away with all the speed and agility of the north wind. Although she felt a little guilty, in truth, Brienne could not bring herself to face Jai - _Professor Lannister_ \- just yet, because surely he would only have to glance into her eyes and see the depth of her feelings fully on display how.

And she could not bear the laughter or, even worse, his pity.

Running as fast as she could, Brienne only began to calm down once she had escaped the lounge and had headed for the safety and security of the toilet (which had a lock on the door). Its small security allowed her a confrontation with her own fears away from other's prying eyes.

 _Breathe,_ she instructed herself as she stared into the bathroom mirror. _If you overreact to his presence, he'll_ know _how you feel about him, which will just be awkward and embarrassing when him and Margaery get together. So just chill out._

Yet no matter how much she told herself to calm down, Brienne found it difficult. She hated parties at the best of times, as they always seemed to magnify her discomfort with herself; indeed, she never felt more awkward and _seen_ than when she was at a party. Furthermore, Jai - _Professor Lannister_ \- was at this party too, and without his shirt on, meaning Brienne was having to deal with not just her supreme inadequacy, but the fact she wanted to lick a pathway down his chest from his clavicle down to the top of his jeans. It was just giving her so much more to worry about.

It took a few more minutes for Brienne to get her bearings, but she eventually managed to get a hold of herself and leave the bathroom. Peeking into the lounge, she discovered that Margaery and Jai - _Professor Lannister_ \- were still speaking to Renly and Loras. From this angle, she could see the perfect lines of Jai - _Professor Lannister's_ \- back, and the sight was so lovely that it made Brienne both horny and a little angry with herself. Not wanting to face him, Brienne decided to go hide in the kitchen with the cocktails. Although making cocktails for people was not exactly fun, it was much more enjoyable than being in Margaery and Jai - _Professor Lannister's_ \- presence, so she stayed hidden for as long as possible.

In fact, for the rest of the night, Brienne found she was largely successful at keeping away from him. Although Jai - _Professor Lannister_ \- caught her eye and waved a few times from the other side of the room, she never went to engage properly. She pretended she was chatting to Theon, or helping Jeyne Poole fix her costume, or cleaning up in the kitchen. The entire attempt to hide from Margaery and Jai - _Professor Lannister_ \- was so exhausting that by eleven o'clock, Brienne just wanted to the party to be over and to go to bed. However, that was not possible - Renly's parties always lasted well into the early hours, after all - so instead she went to hide on the balcony, with only the company of the fresh air and the stars. Alone in the darkness, she had hoped she would feel better, but mostly she was just reminded of how incredibly lonely she was.

 _It's just the way it is,_ she told herself sadly. _Women like me can't expect anything from men like him because we can't wear gold bikinis and be an object of desire. I just have to accept that. Jai - Professor Lannister - can be my friend, but never something more._

"I hoped I would find you eventually."

His voice was so silky smooth that Brienne nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound. "Professor Lannister!" she stammered, spinning around to face her nightmare, horrified that he had caught her.

His tentative smile dimmed slightly at her exclamation. "It's Jaime, remember? My name is Jaime."

"Yes," Brienne replied, blushing profusely as he stepped forward, just that tiny bit closer. After a few awkward moments of silent dancing, Jaime was close enough that if she reached out, Brienne could run her hand down that perfectly formed chest of his. Trying not to get distracted, Brienne attempted to focus on something that was not his incomparable beauty. "Where is Margaery?" she asked, her voice falsely light.

Jaime shrugged. "No idea. I am here talking to you, aren't I?"

"Yes," said Brienne again, this time more tersely, "but you are on a _date_ with Margaery. Surely you must know where she is?"

To Brienne's surprise, Jaime's pretty eyes suddenly went very wide. "I don't think Margaery and I are on a _date."_

"Then what do you call it?" snapped Brienne, not really having the energy to play semantics with him. "You came here together and are dressed as Simba and Nala. That looks like dating to me."

At Brienne's assessment of his situation, Jaime waved his hand dismissively, before giving her a teasing smile. "I am a Lannister; the lion is my house sigil. When Margaery suggested we dress up as lions, I _had_ to agree. And, anyway, don't you like my costume?"

Brienne swallowed nervously; she loved his costume, it made him look like half a god, but she didn't want him to know that. As if to goad her into telling him how wonderful he looked, Jaime extended his arms, put his hands on his hips and struck a pose, like he was a model and she was a photographer. His smile was electric. Not liking the way he was seemingly riling her up, Brienne made a _tsk_ sound and rolled her eyes. "It's alright, but I think the fake chest hair is overkill."

For some reason, Jaime's smile grew even larger. "That's not fake chest hair, Brienne. It's real. Do you want proof?"

Her breath caught in her throat at that offer.

"I... err..." Brienne mumbled, her face burning as she kicked herself for her own stupidity. Not only had she made an idiotic comment, but she had revealed that she had looked at his chest enough to study his chest hair, even though she had not said a word to him all evening. "I... um... its..."

"You can touch it if you want, you can touch me," Jaime said quietly, extending his hand to her. "Give me your hand and I'll show you..."

In her heart of hearts, Brienne knew she shouldn't. Jaime was here on a date with her friend, and nothing could come of this weird little thing that had flowered between them during late night visits to the library. Nevertheless, the baser, animal part of Brienne's brain took over. She _wanted_ to touch him; hell, she wanted to kiss him too, but she knew that was impossible, knew that was too much to ask. Therefore, this offer seemed like a small shining sliver of what she _could_ have if she was a woman who looked like Margaery. Knowing she would perhaps never have another chance like it, the selfish part of Brienne took over and she seized the only opportunity she would ever have to be closer to him, and let Jaime put her hand on his chest.

He let out a little sigh as she touched him - manly and deep - that sent a thrill of want up her spine. Jaime was just so damn perfect. His hair felt so silky and soft that Brienne could not help but run her fingers through it, accidentally brushing his nipple at she did so. A spark of electricity seemed to pass between them at that intimate contact, and it made Jaime gasp, then step forward into Brienne's touch. His small gesture made her heart flutter, so Brienne continued to feel his chest, lifting up her other hand in order to run her fingers down the trail of hair that skirted down from his belly button. As she trailed the line down the centre of his abs, Jaime started making strange little growling sounds at the back of his throat. She wondered if he was trying to do an impression of a lion.

"Have you seen Jaime?" came a voice from just inside the door. There was no mistaking it for anyone other than Margaery.

"Er..." said someone in response, probably Renly. "I think he's out on the balcony."

Although Jaime had his eyes closed and both his hands rested on Brienne's hips, Brienne leapt back, not wanting Margaery to get the wrong impression. She had just been checking out his fancy dress costume, after all. When Brienne stopped touching him, Jaime's eyes clouded in confusion for a few moments, until Margaery made her appearance on the balcony.

"Oh there you are," smiled Margaery, her eyes brightening at Jaime's presence. "What are you doing out here with Brienne?"

Jaime went to respond, but Brienne cut across him. She did not want him muddying the water with some half-cooked story that could be miscontrued. "We were just talking about late night library stuff, that's all. I've got to go anyway... I'll leave you two alone."

"Wait," said Jaime, reaching out towards her, forcing Brienne to dance out of his grasp. "Where are you going?"

"Just inside to get a drink," Brienne replied swiftly, averting his gaze. "You and Margaery should talk; you are on a date after all."

While Margaery's expression was one of silent thanks, Jaime looked displeased. "Brienne, I..."

"I'll see you both later," Brienne said, not wanting to get into conversation with the two of them while her hands and heart still burned with the memory of touching him.

So, before either of them could say another word, Brienne disappeared back inside the party, leaving Margaery and Jaime alone. After all, the two of them were beautiful enough to be each other's equal together.

It was a world to which Brienne did not belong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! As ever, I would love to hear what you think in the form of a comment or kudos.
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	45. One Too Many Apple Spritzers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After reuniting at their ten year high school reunion, things get complicated for Jaime and Brienne...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, thanks so much for reading this chapter! This was inspired by a prompt from anonymous for number 5 of the short fic ask, which was a one night stand and falling pregnant AU. Be warned, this one veers more to the E end of M. I hope you enjoy!

_This is all your fault,_ Brienne told herself nastily as she sat in a non-descript coffee shop so far out of town that she would not bump into anyone she knew. _So you have no right to be upset about this, because it is_ _nobody else's fault but your own. You shouldn't have drunk all those apple spritzers, and then you wouldn't need to be here... wouldn't need to be here at all._

Taking a sip of her Hot Chocolate, Brienne looked out the window. It was raining torrentially.

 _Good,_ she thought. _Maybe he'll get soaked. It serves him right after what he's done to me. Him and those bloody apple spritzers._

In spite of the fact her blood thrummed with a kind of over-sized irritation with Jaime, for a brief moment, Brienne had thought it might be possible for things to be different between them. Two months earlier, Pod had talked her in to going to their ten year High School Reunion.

"It will be fun," he said, with a cheery smile on his face. "Won't it be great to see old friends again?"

By _old friends,_ he was clearly meaning Sansa Stark, the girl he had had a crush on when he was fifteen and stupid. However, it seemed that Pod was now twenty-eight and stupid, as the second he caught a whiff of his red-headed crush when they entered the hall, Pod had dashed off, leaving Brienne totally alone.

 _Great,_ she had thought sullenly, before dragging herself to the bar to order her first apple spritzer of the evening. _Just my luck._

Yet, to Brienne's immense disappointment, the night had barely begun. Halfway through her first drink, Margaery Tyrell had scooted over and sat down on the stool beside her. During those torturous years at school, Brienne and Margaery had hung around together for the sake of solidarity but had instantly said their goodbyes when their forced imprisonment at King's Landing High ended. Consequently, their conversation was excruciating.

"What do you do now?" asked Margaery, wearing an awkward smile.

"I work in advertising," said Brienne brusquely. "You?"

"I model."

"Oh."

Brienne had taken another sip of her apple spritzer, bolstering herself for the in depth description of Margaery's modelling career that no one really wanted to hear that was surely on its way. She had been on her fourth glass some time later when Renly Baratheon interrupted Margaery's story about catwalk modelling, all smiles and superficiality. Just as Pod had once been fifteen and stupid, as a naive teenager, Brienne had had an awfully ill-advised crush on Renly. Star-eyed and in love, Brienne had been blind to the fact he was incredibly gay. Still, after the horribly awkward revelation of the truth, he had at least been not hostile at school, which was more than Brienne could say for some other people.

"I thought I should warn you," Renly said firmly, not even taking the time for polite hello considering they hadn't seen each other for ten years. "Ron, Hyle, Ben, and Ed are here."

Brienne's had heart sunk. She shouldn't have been surprised that her childhood tormentors would be at the reunion, but even so she had hoped she would be able to avoid them. In the weeks leading up to their prom, they had all made an elaborate bet over who could get her as a date and then dump her in the most publicly embarrassing way a few days before the big event. Ron had won, as he had asked her out quite sweetly after one chemistry class, and then had chucked a rose in her face in the canteen two days later, telling her she was the ugliest beast he had ever laid eyes on and wouldn't be caught dead going to prom with her.

In her nightmares, Brienne sometimes still heard the laughter.

"Thanks for letting me know," Brienne said gruffly, before turning back to the bartender. "I'm going to need two apple spritzers to go."

* * *

Scared of being caught by the ghosts of her past, Brienne had retreated to the balcony with the apple spritzers, not wanting to think of Ron or the stupid bet. It was not just the terror of genuine romantic relationships that her experience with Ron that made her fear seeing him again, but that she would also be reminded of the main thing she had lost because of that whole nightmare.

Jaime.

As a naive fifteen year old, Brienne had thought they were friends, especially after the whole incident with Vargo Hoat at the county football game. Jaime had broken his wrist after a particularly nasty tackle from Vargo, and Brienne had been the one to carry him from the field and make sure he was alright. After that, the two of them had existed in a weird world where they always made sure to say _hi_ to each other in the halls, and they secretly played football together after school.

She had loved him, of course, because he was kind, friendly, and also oh so handsome. 

_Stupid really,_ Brienne told herself as she thought about him while she drank her Hot Chocolate. _The version of him you knew was never real in the first place._

Brienne and Jaime's faux friendship had lasted until shortly after Ron had publicly embarrassed her. Teary and fragile, Brienne had gone to her locker in order to perform some ritual of normality, but the mundane had almost broken her. Inside her locker, she had found a rose, just like the one Connington had thrown at her feet. It was accompanied by a little note from Jaime in his familiar, scrawling writing. Brienne could not quite remember what the letter had said, but she did recall that it had stated that roses were a universal symbol of love and they should go to prom together.

That Jaime could be so cruel in mocking her had torn Brienne's heart in two, so the next time she saw him, Brienne threw the rose at his feet and ripped his letter up in his face. 

"I thought you were my friend!" she had screamed, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"I am!" he had cried, trying to hold her close to him. "Best friends!"

"Then why have you done _this?"_

Given the extent of her rage, Jaime and Brienne had not spoken since, at least until that very moment on the balcony at the school reunion. Jaime had snuck up on her, just in the way he used to do when they were teenagers, and Brienne had found herself falling under an old spell.

"Hey Tarth, I hear you've been drinking apple spritzers. I got you another one."

Turning to face him, Brienne was horrified to discover that Jaime had somehow got even more beautiful in the past ten years. It made her chest ache. Taking the drink off him, she downed it at once, wanting to hide her trepidation behind alcohol.

Jaime smiled. "Not the same good girl you used to be, then?"

"Nah, I'm still square," Brienne replied, turning away from him. "It's just I've already had enough of this party. I need to get black out drunk to face everyone in there."

A shadow passed across his features. "Including me?"

" _Especially_ you," Brienne responded, the alcohol forcing her to serve him the truth on a platter.

A heavy silence followed that confession, weighed down by years of friendship, feelings, and estrangement. Not knowing what to do with it, Brienne let it continue as she fiddled with her glass, determined not to look at him. Jaime was not satisfied with that response, however, and compelled her to engage with him.

"I missed you."

"Don't."

"But I _have_ missed you, I _still_ miss you even though you are right in front of me," Jaime said drawing closer to her. "We were friends, weren't we? And you ran out of my life."

Brienne sighed and closed her eyes. "It was a long time ago."

"It still hurts, though," he replied, reaching up and dusting a strand of hair out of her eyes. There was a heat in his stare that Brienne had told herself she was imagining when they were children, but now seemed very real.

Not quite sure what to do with the hunger, her old feelings, and the alcohol surging through her body, Brienne had reached out to him and kissed him, only to be surprised when he reciprocated at once. His tongue traced the inside of her lips as Brienne moaned appreciatively, finding herself washed away by a teenage fantasy she had believed long dead.

Jaime eventually pulled away. "How drunk are you?"

"Drunk enough that I want this, not so drunk you should feel guilty in the morning."

Jaime had considered that prospect for a few more moments, before shrugging. "Sounds perfect to me."

From there, the night raced away into pure reverie. Drunk on kisses, Brienne let Jaime take her out to his car, and there they made out on the back seat like a couple of teenagers, Jaime fingering her all the way. Once she had come for the first time, Jaime drove her back to his house, where he threw her down on his bed, stripped her of her clothes and licked at her cunt until she came against his mouth. Unsatiated, Brienne had demanded to ride him, which Jaime had obliged her after he found a condom in his wallet.

"Yes Brienne... _yes..._ we should have done this years ago, years and... _ahhhh..."_

After Jaime had come inside her - hot and too much and _so so good_ \- Brienne had slumped down on top of him, her heart filled with longing and apple spritzer.

"I've missed you too Jaime, so so much."

He had looked so happy when he kissed her, that Brienne had almost cried. "Then we'll fix this," he said fervently. "I promise."

Yet things were easier said than done, as after Jaime had fallen asleep, Brienne's old fears came back. Sobering up fast, she had been confronted by the memories of a wilted rose, a torn letter, and how he had deceived her and made her believe that he was her friend.

While Jaime snored in blissful slumber, Brienne snuck out, feeling treacherous and strangely dirty.

* * *

The following morning, in the safety of her own bed, Brienne had woken up to a suspicious text.

 _Unknown Number:_ Hey Tarth.

Even though only one person called her Tarth, and therefore Brienne knew full well who it was, Jaime Lannister was a total dick (even if he had given her multiple orgasms the night before) so she decided to play stupid.

 _Brienne Tarth:_ Who dis?

 _Unknown Number:_ It's Jaime.

Wanting to torment him, Brienne decided to toy with him a little bit.

 _Brienne Tarth:_ Who?

 _Unknown Number:_ Jaime Lannister. You know, the guy who had his tongue in your cunt last night.

 _Brienne Tarth:_ Alright, you don't have to be so graphic.

 _Unknown Number:_ Just speaking the truth 🤷♂️

Letting out a little huff of annoyance, Brienne tried to calm herself before replying.

 _Brienne Tarth:_ How did you even get this number?

 _Unknown Number:_ I messaged Pod for it.

 _Brienne Tarth:_ Why?

 _Unknown Number:_ You need my number.

 _Brienne Tarth:_ Do I?

 _Unknown Number:_ Yes, so we can arrange what we are going to do for our first date.

Brienne had stared down at her phone incredulously, not quite sure what to make of that. Jaime Lannister had always been a great lover of practical jokes, but this seemed one step too far. There was a reason she had bailed in the middle of the night, after all. Consequently, Brienne decided the best way forward was sarcasm.

 _Brienne Tarth:_ You should take me to Varys' new restaurant for dinner. It is only 200 dragons for a drink!

 _Unknown Number:_ I can if you want. My Aunt Genna is a shareholder there, so I might be able to get us a table for next week.

 _Brienne Tarth:_ Are you being serious?!?!

 _Unknown Number:_ Of course I am! I'm a Lannister, I can get us in places, Tarth 😘

Maybe it was the arrogant insistence of his own importance, or even the cutesy little emoji, but something had made Brienne snap. Even after ten years, Jaime was still the same awful douchebag who pretended to be a friend but then had taunted her with a rose, no matter how drunk they both got at a reunion.

His response made her see red.

 _Brienne Tarth:_ Just fuck off, Lannister. I know your game.

She blocked his number before he had a chance to reply.

Yet in spite of their last aggressive text exchange, two months later, Brienne found herself waiting for Jaime in a dingy coffee shop halfway across town, because she was a stupid idiot who had had too many apple spritzers and forgot to take the morning after pill.

 _This is all your fault,_ Brienne told herself angrily. _Not his,_ yours. _And now you are going to have to deal with Jaime Lannister for the next eighteen years at least._

_Great, just great._

"Interesting place to choose for our first date."

Having been lost in her own dark thoughts, Brienne looked up to find Jaime Lannister standing over her, wearing a beautifully cut suit that was far too good for this mouldy coffee shop, and a smile that was carved by the gods. In his hand, he carried a coffee and Brienne made a bet with herself that it was the most pretentious one on the coffee shop's menu.

"This is not a first date," she said tersely, folding her arms across her chest as some kind of primal defence.

"No?" smirked Jaime, a laugh just behind his teeth as he sat down in the chair opposite her. "Because you left me hanging on my offer to go to Varys' together. I figured you were just scouting out better options."

Irritated, Brienne made a _tsk_ sound with her tongue. "As if. I blocked your number."

At that out loud acknowledgement of what she had done, Jaime's smile dropped at once. "I know, I tried to call you but I couldn't get through. And do you know what the weird thing is? It is that I can't work out _why_ you blocked me. We had a nice night."

"According to who?" Brienne snorted derisively, not wanting to admit it really had been a nice night. "You got your end away; we were both drunk. There's nothing to romanticise in that."

Then it was his turn to laugh. " _I_ got my end away?" he said disbelievingly. "Tarth, I was the one that ate you out and _you_ were the one who didn't reciprocate. It was also you who ran out in the middle of the night without even a kiss goodbye, so please, if anyone used anyone for sex, it was you using me."

Brienne turned a furious, embarrassed red at Jaime's summation of events, and took a sip of Hot Chocolate to try and distract him from that fact of her shame. "Yeah, well that... was... that was..."

"What?" he asked, raising an almost confused eyebrow at her. There was something so mocking in that expression that it made Brienne snap.

"Yeah, well that was revenge," Brienne said sullenly, taking another sip of Hot Chocolate in order to appear casual when exposing her heart.

Jaime's eyebrows almost disappeared into his hairline. "Revenge? For what?"

"For you being the worst piece of shit to me were kids," Brienne spat, finding it difficult to keep her venom back. "Or have you forgotten all about that?"

Perhaps it was her interrogating stare, or even her forthright tone, but something caused Jaime to put his pretentious coffee down on the table and let out a bitter laugh. "If I recall correctly, it was you who was the worst piece of shit to me, Tarth. You took my awfully sappy love letter, that I had spent hours working on, and ripped it up in my face. That was a heartless bitch move, whatever you say, especially as we were friends."

Given his seemingly sincere expression, Brienne could not help but stare at him incredulously. Was he really going to try and put this all on her?

"Why would I have done anything else?" Brienne asked, trying to search for some sign that he was teasing her in his expression. "You decided to joke around with my feelings two days after Ron Connington had dumped me in front of the whole school by giving me a rose, just like he did. _That_ was a heartless bitch move, Jaime. I was just clapping back."

For the first time since Brienne had known Jaime, it finally appeared as if he had run out of words. "I... that's not... what?"

"What are you trying to say?" Brienne asked exasperatedly, fed up with him playing the idiot. "Jaime, just spit it out."

"I wasn't joking around with you," he said in a rush, his words pouring out of him like water. "I wrote that letter and gave you those flowers because I wanted to ask you to prom, and I was too cowardly to do it face to face. It wasn't about Connington or anyone else. It was about you and me, and what we could have been."

Having expected him to finally admit he had been part of the stupid bet, Brienne stared at Jaime as if he had gone mad. Over the years, Brienne had mulled on what might have been if Jaime had felt for her what she felt for him but had been able to suppress that bitterness but putting him in the same category as Ron, Hyle, and the others. It meant that this revelation was almost too much for her, especially as Jaime was gazing at her quite intensely.

"Is that why we haven't spoken for ten years?" asked Jaime, his voice suddenly tremendously soft as he reached across the table to take her hand. "Because you think I was part of that stupid bet? Because I promise you, I wasn't."

"Don't lie," she retorted, trying to suppress the lump that was blooming in her throat. It was futile to mourn a friendship that had ended years ago, futile to hope that something was not as it had seemed when she was a sad, lonely, self-hating sixteen year old.

"I'm not lying," Jaime said ardently, his fingers locking with hers as she did so. A thrill of want danced up her spine, accompanied by a swell of affection in her chest. Gods, it was like they teenagers again, nursing a crush. "That letter came from my heart, and I bought you those flowers because that is what a boy is meant to do for a girl he likes."

Although Jaime was gazing at her so softly, as if this preposterous story was true, Brienne could not permit herself to believe it. "You didn't like me."

"You're right," he countered, quick as a whip. "I didn't like you, I _loved_ you."

"Oh gods, just stop," said Brienne forcefully, pulling her hand away from him pinching the bridge of her nose in an attempt to stop the swell of emotion that was threatening to overtake her. "I don't care about what you supposedly felt when we kids..."

"Then what are we here to talk about?" Jaime said angrily, his mood changing sharply as he raised his voice for the first time since he entered the cafe. "If it is not about the night of the reunion, or a first date, or _discussing_ going on a first date, or a big long talk about all our past issues, then why are we here? Why do you want to speak to me so desperately?"

Anger washed away all hint of Brienne's filter.

"Because I'm pregnant, okay?" she snapped, unable to keep her fury at him and the stupid broken condom at bay anymore. "Because I got pregnant after we fucked on the night of the reunion, you are clearly the father, and I'm keeping the baby. You can be involved or not, I don't care, but I thought you should know."

All the colour drained out of Jaime's face as he stared at her disbelievingly, clearly finding it difficult to comprehend what she had just said. "Excuse me?" he eventually had to stammered, his eyes almost popping out of his skull. " _Excuse me?"_

It was all too much for Brienne. Abandoning her Hot Chocolate, Brienne got to her feet and went to turn away. "You heard me, I'm pregnant. Do what you want with that piece of information, but if you are interested in being a part of this kid's life... call me or something. I don't know."

"Brienne," said Jaime, putting so much emphasis on her name it almost sounded heavy. "You can't just..."

But she could. Not wanting to stay trapped in old feelings anymore, Brienne pulled away from him and dashed from the cafe, hoping that by fleeing, she would not have to face the situation they both now found themselves in.

Luckily for her, Jaime did not chase after her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! There was a reference to a line from Friends in there, so well done if you spotted it. As ever, I would luuuurrvvveee to hear what you think in the form of a comment or kudos!
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	46. Cello Suite No. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne plays the cello for Jaime again, much to the consternation of her boyfriend Hyle...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, thanks for coming back and reading this one! This is a follow up to Chapter 42 "Cello Suite No. 1". The piece of music Brienne is playing in this one is Karl Jenkins' [Benedictus](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5KdLTxOD1KM). Like Bach, he apparently exists in Westeros too.
> 
> This one was built on a prompt from anonymous on tumblr who wanted No 10 in an ask meme "it hurts".
> 
> I hope you enjoy!
> 
> PS. Implication of domestic violence in this one.

When Jaime woke up in the morning, he was the most well-rested he had been in months, and it was all thanks to Brienne and her cello. Wiping sleep out of his eyes, he wondered whether he could find some way to thank her. Money? Cello music? A holiday? Nothing seemed right; Jaime Lannister had spent his life dripping with wealth, so gifts had always seemed inconsequential to him. What could he ever give Brienne that would convey his thanks considering what she had done for him? Ever since moving to Tarth, Jaime had not left the house much, given that he had not thought there was much point. He had managed to leave the scavenging, hunting paparazzi back in King's Landing, but there was a different kind of person he feared here. Tarth was the kind of place where everyone knew everyone, and the nosy islanders would surely want to know him so that they could pity him. Jaime may have lost his hand, his dignity, and his pride, but he would never be pitied.

Never.

And yet he felt as if he needed to go out; he needed to find something for Brienne to say thanks, something that wasn't tacky, flashy, and so Jaime Lannister it would make her turn her nose up in disgust. He needed something fitting for his new life on Tarth, not something from the old world.

So, once he had eaten something for breakfast, showered, and got dressed, Jaime left his house. As he lived not too far away from Morne, Jaime decided to walk into the small village to see if there was anything in the shop that could symbolise his gratitude to Brienne.

He was to be disappointed. All the shop seemed to have was a selection of small wooden models of Galladon, the Perfect Knight and snow globes depicting Tarth set in the shining sea. Not feeling any of them did his thanks justice, Jaime walked up to the till, hoping to get a little help.

"Hi," he said to the giant, blue-eyed man standing behind the counter. "Do you have a gift to thank someone for saving my life?"

The man furrowed his brow, clearly finding his question absurd. "We only do souvenirs for tourists here, my boy. You'll have to go over to Evenfall if you want anything fancier. Who are you buying for? How did they save your life?"

Jaime shrugged; it was an old habit, borne of not wanting anyone to come too close. "My neighbour, Brienne. She plays the cello and it kinda got me out of a dark place... so I want to say thank you."

"This wouldn't be Brienne Tarth, would it?" the man asked, smiling.

"Yes," replied Jaime, puzzled by the reaction. "Why?"

"Because I am her Uncle Endrew, and I am telling you right now, she doesn't want any of the old toot from this shop. It's run by me and her dad, so her house is full of this stuff already. I would suggest something like flowers; everyone likes flowers"

Looking at Endrew more closely, Jaime could now see the resemblance to Brienne. He was big, like she was, but he did not have eyes that contained the cosmos in the way his niece did. "Oh," said Jaime, not sure what to say to that suggestion. "I don't know about that. Would she misconstrue the gesture? Especially as she already has a boyfriend... Hyle, or whatever his name is."

At the mention of Hyle, Endrew's expression darkened somewhat. "Well, Hyle could do with getting a lesson in not taking things for granted. Brienne getting bought flowers by a celebrity might just give him the kick up the arse he needs."

"But I don't like her _that_ way," insisted Jaime, not wanting anyone to get their wires crossed. "I would just like to buy her a nice gift..."

Endrew let out a jovial burst of laughter. "Still, I'd love to see Hyle's face when Jaime Lannister gets Brienne a big bunch of flowers. That boy might finally realise what he's got."

Slightly annoyed that Endrew was imagining using him in an as a pawn in teaching Hyle a moral lesson, Jaime shrugged again and went to turn away. "Perhaps... well, thanks for your help. I guess I need to go to Evenfall."

"Don't mention it," said Endrew as Jaime gave him a nod of farewell and turned towards the door. Only having spoken to Brienne a few times, Jaime was not sure exactly what she would want, but he was fairly certain that flowers was not the answer.

When Jaime reached the door, Endrew spoke up once more. "Just don't get her roses."

"Why not?" asked Jaime, turning back to look at Brienne's uncle. "Because they are too romantic?"

Endrew shook his head, a shadow crossing his expression. "No, it's just... Brienne does not like roses. Don't get her roses. They'll only upset her."

Mystified by this revelation, Jaime nevertheless nodded. He would need all the help that he could get in choosing the right gift, after all.

* * *

The bus journey to Evenfall was long but rather uneventful, but once he reached the biggest town on Tarth, he had still not decided what to get her. Although a stubborn, unrelenting voice in his head kept chanting _flowers, flowers, flowers,_ Jaime wanted to try and be more original, so he searched all the stores he came across. These included several more Tarth souvenir shops, a Braavosi glass works, a Lyseni furniture place, and even a Pentoshi snacks stall, but Jaime could still not find something worthy of Brienne. By late afternoon, he knew he had little choice but to go into _Pia's Flowers_ and throw himself on the erstwhile owner's mercy.

The woman behind the counter - a petite lady with dark hair and matching dark eyes - smiled at him when he entered. Jaime knew at once that she recognised him, and that fact made him a little uneasy.

"Hello, welcome to _Pia's Flowers,"_ she said chirpily. "My name is Pia. How can I help you?"

Jaime did not quite know where to start. "I need to get someone flowers... it's not in a romantic way or anything, but I need to tell her thank you for saving my life, thank you for giving me a second chance. I don't know flower language so... have you got like a tulip or a daisy or something that can say that? Just no roses. Brienne doesn't like roses."

Pia looked at him in wry amusement. "Not romantic, huh? But you know her flower preferences?"

"Her uncle told me," said Jaime firmly, trying to brush Pia off. "This is purely a way for me to say thanks... one neighbour to another. What do you recommend?"

Pia thought about it for a moment. "Lilies. Lilies would be perfect. They symbolise fresh beginnings, after all."

Bowing to Pia's superior knowledge, Jaime let her draw together a beautiful bouquet of lilies of different textures and colours, threaded through with sprigs of different plants to offset the whole. Altogether, it was fairly expensive, but Jaime did not care; Brienne deserved something beautiful in her life, after all the beautiful things she had given him.

The journey back to his house on the bus was long enough for Jaime to grow concerned about the flowers wilting, so he decided to go and shove them in a vase for a little while once he got home. As he ate his dinner, Jaime nervously watched the flowers, lest they fade before he had a chance to give them to Brienne. However, by the time he was finished, they were still alive and beautiful, and seemed the perfect way to convey his gratitude.

 _I'll give them to her first thing tomorrow,_ he thought. _When she can really appreciate them._

After eating, Jaime went into his lounge to watch some trash TV, but soon found himself interrupted by the rattle of his letterbox. Getting to his feet, he went to check on what had been delivered and found a note for him waiting on his mat written in a neat, precise hand.

_11pm. Karl Jenkins' Benedictus. Listen. Brienne x_

Jaime stared down at the note, even as his heartbeat with excitement. Checking his watch, he saw it was 9.30pm. It was not long at all until he would be able to hear Brienne play...

And he could hardly wait.

* * *

At eleven o'clock, Jaime found himself sitting in his room in his pyjamas, pressed against the wall he shared with Brienne, his duvet wrapped around him. He did not know Karl Jenkins' _Benedictus,_ but he was looking forward to it. If it was anything like the Bach, it was going to be transcendent.

The walls were thin enough that Jaime could hear Brienne setting herself up; a few tentative plucks of the strings, a rearranging of the placement of the cello's stand, followed by the vaulting leaps of tuning around an A. Even those few bowed preparations had Jaime's heart hammering in his chest, so he tapped the wall to let her know he was here. She stopped tuning for a moment, long enough so Jaime heard a replying _tap-tap-tap_ through the wall.

 _She knows I'm here,_ Jaime thought, his whole body relaxing. _She knows I'm listening._

After a few more moments of preparation, Brienne was finally ready to go. The Benedictus began to a slow ascending pattern that ultimately fell; high and fine and delicate. The timbre was so sweet, so pure, that it almost sounded like a violin, and Jaime was sure that meant it was difficult to play. With strained fingers and a passionate determination to spin out a tune beyond the normal limits of her instrument, Brienne sang a song written by someone else.

It reminded Jaime of his own life before he had come to Tarth; one belonging to a man who had been pushed further than he could ever go.

Yet at the same time, Brienne's melody was melancholy and full of longing, before turning triumphant. In the time since Jaime had lost his hand, he had been to hell and back again, revisiting Vargo Hoat's basement night after night in his dreams. Only Brienne, only Brienne's music freed him from his chains and let him fly.

_Higher and higher and high--_

Then, at the peak of a furious crescendo, the music stopped quite suddenly at the sound of a man's voice. His tone was gruff and harsh, yet Jaime could not quite hear what he was saying as it was muffled by the wall. After a few moments, he heard Brienne respond. Her reply was timid and meek, which only encouraged Hyle to answer her more harshly. A mumble followed from Brienne, in which Jaime hoped was a cutting, sarcastic response. From there, Hyle and Brienne's confrontation turned into some kind of atonal nightmare that was percussive and angry. Their to-and-fro continued for some time, showing Jaime that there was no hope his personal concert would continue. Feeling defeated, eventually, he got up off the floor and returned to his bed, trying to relax even though the argument between Brienne and Hyle was getting more intense on the other side of the wall.

 _Go to sleep,_ he told himself firmly. _This is none of your business, this is..._

His personal remonstrances stopped the moment he heard a loud thud and then the sound of something falling. Fearful, Jaime pricked his ears up. He could have sworn he heard Hyle speak - something rude, vulgar, and stupid obviously - but then a door slammed, and whatever had happened on the other side of the wall clearly came to an end.

He tried not to hear Brienne's tears, but it was almost too hard, especially when he wanted nothing more than to go next door and wrap his arms around her.

 _Go to sleep,_ Jaime told himself again, even as Brienne sniffled on the other side of the wall. _She won't want you interfering._

And yet, Jaime found he could not relax. Unsure of what was going on, Jaime listened for any sign of Brienne from his bed, barely able to hear because his heart was pounding so loudly in his chest. Brienne was alright, surely? She was big and strong and brave, and played such sweet music in front of hundreds of people. She was just upset by her idiot boyfriend, wasn't she? Eventually, the silence got far too much for Jaime, so he got out of bed and went to position himself in the place he often sat when listening to her playing the cello. He prayed he could give her some comfort just by being there.

Jaime knocked on the wall.

He got no response.

He tried again a few minutes later.

Still nothing.

* * *

Given the way Brienne's aborted concert had ended, Jaime barely slept a wink all night. Instead of his planned restful sleep, Jaime had tossed and turned in his bed, wondering what her boyfriend had said to her. From the short conversation he had had with Brienne about Hyle, Jaime knew that he disapproved of her music making, but he did not realise he was such an idiot that he would actively stop her playing the cello.

 _She could do better,_ thought Jaime sullenly. _So much better._

Consequently, come the morning, Jaime was determined to cheer her up. Setting himself up by the upstairs window, he watched and waited until he saw Hyle leaving the house. The idiot boyfriend drove away in his car, some crappy pop music playing loudly out of the window. Jaime did not wait to take his chance. Already dressed, he dashed down to the kitchen where he was keeping the lilies. Once he pulled them out of the vase, Jaime shook the excess water away, before heading out of the house, keys in hand. He hoped Brienne was in.

Standing on her doorstep, Jaime pulled the flowers into his chest with his handless arm so he could knock on the door unimpeded. There was no immediate answer, but Jaime thought he could hear someone shuffling around inside, so was content to wait. When nobody appeared for a few minutes, however, Jaime knocked again and this time he got a response.

"Who is it?"

"It's Jaime," he replied. When he was just greeted by more silence, he tried again. "Jaime Lannister from next door. I've got something for you."

More silence. Then a little shuffling and the front door opened a fraction.

"What do you want?" she asked, one sapphire eye just visible in the darkness of the house.

Feeling a little uneasy by her hesitant reaction, Jaime thrusted the flowers forward, smiling. "When my brother Tyrion took me to the Baelor Concert Hall to see the King's Landing Philharmonic, he bought flowers for their lead violinist because he was so enamoured with her talents, so I thought I would do the same for you."

At that surprising statement, Brienne's eyes went very wide and opened the door a fraction. "You brought me flowers?"

"Yes," he smiled, stepping forward a fraction more. "Pia at the flower shop in Evenfall told me that lilies were a good shout."

 _They are not romantic like roses,_ he reminded himself.

Clearly not convinced by his explanation, Brienne hovered behind the door, watching him suspiciously. "Why have you brought me flowers of all things? Nobody has ever got me flowers, not even after concerts."

"Not even Hyle?" asked Jaime thoughtlessly, remembering the noises from beyond the wall the previous night.

Brienne flinched. "Especially not Hyle."

Shaking his head derisively - Hyle really was a crap boyfriend - Jaime tried to find the words to explain. "Brienne, before I heard you play your cello... it hurt. Hell, it hurts when I can't hear you playing. Ever since I lost my hand, I haven't been able to leave my house... to leave my head, but you've given me that chance. According to Pia, lilies symbolise rebirth or a fresh start, so they felt only right to give to you..."

Jaime ran out of words. How could he find the perfect thing to say to tell her what her music meant to him? Luckily, however, it seemed he had said something right, as Brienne stepped out of the shadow of the door and into the light towards him. Jaime thought it would be a relief, but then he saw her properly and the sight shocked him.

"What happened to your face?" he asked, horrified.

Brienne averted her gaze and clearly decided self-deprecation was the best form of defence. "You've seen me before. I've always been this ugly."

"I'm not talking about your looks," said Jaime, irritated. "I'm talking about your shiners." Across Brienne's freckled cheek was a purpling bruise, accompanied by a rather noticeable black eye. Concerned, Jaime lifted his right hand towards her face, before remembering that he was maimed and pulling it away again. "What happened? During that fight you had with Hyle last night, did he hit you?"

Brienne went an embarrassed red. "Of course he didn't."

"Then how did you get those bruises?" asked Jaime forcefully, not believing her.

"I tripped..."

"Bullshit," barked Jaime, stepping forward to take a closer look. Brienne tried to retreat back into the shadows, but Jaime put his stump on her arm to steady her. He had to try to pretend it did not mean something when she didn't flinch away. "You don't just trip and get bruises like that. I heard Hyle and you arguing last night, and he stopped you playing the cello..."

"He doesn't like me playing, he thinks it is meaningless noise," said Brienne, as if that was some kind of explanation.

Jaime let out a snort of derision. She was really failing to paint her boyfriend in a good light. "If he can't see that your cello playing is sent from the heavens, that is his problem. Tell him to fuck off and play for me instead, I'll listen to you forever."

"Jaime..."

"You can come and play the cello in my house," offered Jaime enthusiastically. "Play me an entire concert, and I'll clap and tell you how great you are every time."

Brienne sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying at it nervously. "I don't think Hyle would like..."

"Screw Hyle," said Jaime passionately. "You deserve an enraptured audience... and I'll be your audience. You also deserve flowers for the many late night concerts you've given me thus far so please... take them."

Staring at the lilies, Brienne lifted one big freckled hand and ran her fingers over the petals softly enough that she did not loosen them. From that simple gesture, Jaime could already tell that her touch was gentle. "They're beautiful."

"It was mostly Pia," admitted Jaime sheepishly. "But I wanted flowers that symbolised new starts, just like the one you've given me."

At that statement, Brienne looked at Jaime properly for the first time since he had arrived on her front step. For a moment, it felt as if he did not have any breath in his lungs. Her eyes were simply... _astonishing_.

"Thank you, but I can't take them," she said meekly, putting her hands back down by her side. "Hyle wouldn't approve. He'll read something into them that isn't there."

"Who cares about what Hyle thinks?" snapped Jaime, riled by the thought of that jealous bastard using his fists on Brienne and treating her passions as if they were nothing. "He's..."

" _I_ care what Hyle thinks," admitted Brienne quietly, breaking eye contact once more. "And I want to make it work with him so... I can't accept these flowers, even though I'd only be too happy to come play the cello for you sometime."

Halfway between disappointed and pleased, Jaime did not quite know what to say to express his astonishment and gratitude. "You will?"

"Yes," she said, a tentative smiling blooming on her face that seemed quite at odd with her bruises. "And this time, I'll even play you some Beethoven."

"Will I still have to listen through a wall?" Jaime asked teasingly.

"No," Brienne said, affectionate laughter buried under her words. "You can sit next to me and watch."

The prospect was so exciting that Jaime wanted to sing. He would be able to hear her play again, just like he had at the concert, without the two of them being separated by walls. Not only would that experience lift his own sore heart, hopefully, he could also make Brienne see that she deserved so much more than Hyle.

Much more than Hyle and his fists.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to coque for the flowers idea! As ever, I would love to hear what you think in the form of a comment or kudos!
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	47. Late Nights and Lions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Professor Jaime's talk with Student Brienne on the balcony, he has to decide what to do about Margaery...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks for coming back for the latest chapter of Professor Jaime/Student Brienne. This chapter is inspired by this prompt by lilsherlockian1975: "Just read Prof Jaime and Lonely PhD Student Brienne. LOVE. IT! Can I please have another installment where the sexy professor only has (❤) eyes for Brienne even tho an overly confident Marg thinks it's in the bag? Frankly, I love Marg but she could use some humble pie in this case. It's totally cool if you weren't planning on going further with this prompt; I'm just a smitten kitten for a sexy professor. Love your writing! Ta!"
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Jaime almost laughed when he saw who Brienne had come to the party dressed as: The Phantom of the Opera. Complete with a cape and a mask, Brienne had gone the whole hog in dressing as the musical madman, to the extent that Jaime started wondering if Brienne felt some sort of affinity with him. Was she really good at composing music? Did she play an instrument? Or did she really just love a good musical? Wanting to discover the truth, Jaime made plans to corner her all night long.

However, he soon found he had two problems to contend with. The first was that Margaery stuck to him as tightly as a very committed limpet, laughing at his jokes and fluttering her eyelashes at him. She blinked so often that he wondered if she had a retina problem, and briefly considered referring her to his colleague Dr Qyburn, a noted ophthalmologist.

"I really like your costume," she purred, clinging onto his arm. "I didn't know you would be so committed to dressing up as Simba."

Jaime shrugged non-committedly. "The Lannister family sigil is a lion. I could hardly do it half-heartedly, could I?"

Margaery tittered girlishly at that barely funny statement and lent close to him, giving him a good eyeful of her cleavage so artfully presented in her gold bikini. Although Jaime could see her evident charms, he was much more interested in finding Brienne, so jerked away abruptly. Margaery pouted disappointedly.

"Err... I just need to go to the toilet," he mumbled. "I'll be back in a minute."

As he fled from Margaery, Jaime's second problem became rapidly apparent. His sexy Phantom was remarkably good at hiding. Although the flat was small, Brienne seemed to have an immense talent for concealing herself, which Jaime thought was incredibly impressive considering she was six foot three of strong, wired muscle, freckles, and arresting blue eyes.

 _Where are you, Brienne?_ he asked himself, flitting from room to room, always avoiding Margaery. _I came to this party to spend time with you... surely you know that by now. So where are you?_

After much searching - and several detours by the drinks table - he eventually found her out on the balcony, her tall, strong figure stark against the silvery moonlight. Her cape blew in the wind along with the shoots of white blonde hair visible under her hat. At the sight of her, Jaime felt his throat go dry. As he had been with Cersei since he was young, he had no idea to talk to women, especially one who turned him on in the way Brienne did.

Consequently, his opening line was remarkably honest.

"I hoped I would find you eventually."

Brienne jumped, her cheeks flushed, and her expression flustered.

"Professor Lannister!" she squawked, turning to look at him, her eyes bright in the moonlight.

There was something hurtful in the way she put a barrier between them by using his title, so Jaime tried to push through it. "It's Jaime, remember? My name is Jaime."

"Yes," Brienne replied, unable to meet his eyes. Wanting to comfort her and to weave some of the intimacy between them they had experienced in the library, Jaime walked forward until he was right in front of her. It was impossible for her to keep hiding from him... or so he thought.

"Where is Margaery?" she asked, somewhat defensively, her expressive eyes narrowing.

Jaime shrugged, determined to signal his disinterest in Brienne's best friend. "No idea. I am here talking to you, aren't I?"

Her eyes flashed with annoyance and Jaime could not quite work out why. "Yes, but you are on a _date_ with Margaery. Surely you must know where she is?"

"I don't think Margaery and I are on a _date,_ " Jaime said, trying to defend himself. He had only come to this party with Margaery because Brienne had not taken him up on his offer, after all.

Brienne raised a sceptical eyebrow at him. "Then what do you call it? You came here together and are dressed as Simba and Nala. That looks like dating to me."

"I am a Lannister," said Jaime, waving his hand in an attempt to justify his choice of costume, just as he had to Margaery. "The lion is my house sigil. When Margaery suggested we dress up as lions, I _had_ to agree. And, anyway, don't you like me costume?"

Wanting to give her a good view, Jaime put his hands on his hips, knowing enough basic psychology to realise it would draw attention to all the best bits of his anatomy. For a few passing moments, it seemed as if Brienne would take him up on the offer and feast on the sight, as her eyes rolled over his body, voraciously consuming every bare inch of skin she could see.

The magic broke, however, when she made an annoyed little _tsk_ sound and rolled her eyes. Jaime had to fight to keep his composure. "It's alright, but I think the fake chest hair is overkill," Brienne said, a little coldly. It was clear she was trying to re-establish a sense of distance.

"That's not fake chest hair, Brienne. It's real," smirked Jaime, feeling it was futile to pull away considering she had already taken the proper time to marvel over his appearance. "Do you want proof?"

Brienne blushed so violently it was like a house catching fire.

"I... err... I... um... its..."

"You can touch it if you want, you can touch me," said Jaime quickly, reaching out to her. He knew what he wanted, and there was only a very small window in which this could be achieved. "Give me you hand and I'll show you..."

Fear flickered in Brienne's eyes. Jaime wondered what she was scared of. Him? Herself? Someone intruding? However, he rapidly realised that Brienne had come to the same conclusion as him - that if she wanted him, she should just _take_ him - and before he could catch a breath, Brienne's hand was on his chest; warm and strong and so _so_ good.

The tension had been building between them for so long that, when Brienne spread her palm flat on his chest, Jaime could not help but groan with relief. He had wanted this for so long and, because of the divorce, had not been touched with tenderness and care for what felt like a millennium. Consequently, as she began to run her fingers through his chest hair, Jaime could not help but step into her touch, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He did not resist as she continued to feel him; not when she brushed against his nipple, nor when she lifted her other hand and traced the trail of hair that extended beneath his belly button. As her fingers journeyed downwards, Jaime's cock sprang to life, and his mind suddenly erupted with thoughts of dragging her into the downstairs bathroom, ripping off her costume, and enacting all his filthiest fantasies together. Needing to hold onto her, he lifted his hands and rested them on her hips, wanting to feel close.

 _Yes,_ thought Jaime desperately. _Yes, Brienne. Yes... Yes... Yes..._

Then suddenly, it was over. She withdrew her hands from him and leapt away, causing Jaime to open his eyes in confusion. Although her face was partly hidden by her mask, Jaime could see how embarrassed Brienne was, and was about ask her why when Margaery made her entry onto the balcony.

"Oh, there you are," said Margaery breezily, her eyes fixed on Jaime. "What are you doing out here with Brienne?"

Jaime was about to tell her directly that he was hanging out with Brienne and it was none of her business, but then the Phantom herself interrupted him, a stern look on her face. "We were just talking about late night library stuff, that's all. I've got to go anyway... I'll leave you two alone."

Not even looking at him, Brienne went to move away, so Jaime reached out to her. Unfortunately, she was too fast, and flitted out of his grasp.

"Wait. Where are you going?"

She could not bring herself to meet his eye. "Just inside to get a drink. You and Margaery should talk; you are on a date after all."

Not agreeing with that summation of events, Jaime tried to let Brienne know that. "Brienne I..."

"I'll see you both later," she said imperiously, dashing away before Jaime could stop her. Her Phantom cape billowed out behind her as she dashed inside, disappearing as quickly as the Angel of Music after a magic spell. Watched her go, Jaime could only pout in irritation as Margaery came to stand before him, resting both hands on his biceps.

"I am so glad I have got you alone... _finally,"_ purred Margaery, smiling at him so gaudily it almost reminded him of Cersei. "We really need to talk."

In spite of her desires, Jaime did not look at his sort of date. Instead, he was entranced by Brienne, who was still visible the other side of the glass doors. Although she was facing away from him, Jaime could not help but think what a sexy back she had. He wanted to run a line of kisses between her shoulder blades, and not stop until he reached her ass.

"Do we?" he asked distractedly, entranced by Brienne's broad shoulders holding up her cape.

"Yes," replied Margaery stoutly. Clearly not liking being ignored, she reached up and cupped his cheek, forcing him to face her. She grinned at him ravenously. "I have to be honest with you, Jaime, I don't like playing games."

"Neither do I," he said confusedly, not quite sure what she was getting at. Cersei had always played games, so Jaime was now committed to avoiding them. Brienne did not seem like a game player; indeed, she seemed a bright, innocent spot of wonder in the world.

Margaery's smile grew bigger at that admittance. "Oh good... because I think it is about time that we make our intentions clear."

Jaime furrowed his brow. "Our intentions?"

Margaery stepped forward, so close he could feel her breasts against his bare chest. Jaime gulped. Although _he_ didn't believe he was on a date with Margaery, the way she was gazing at him - heated, hungry - suddenly made Jaime realise that _she_ did.

_Oh dear..._

"We should fuck," declared Margaery, without a hint of shame. "And then, if you want, we should date."

Unused to forward women - at least, unused to women who were _outwardly_ forward and utilised honest talking - Jaime found himself quite flustered. "Oh... I... uh..."

"I saw your photo on the departmental board and I knew I wanted you," she said, leaning in even further so they were close enough to kiss. "And then I found out that you were Brienne's little library buddy, and I knew I had my chance. I asked you here tonight in order to make you an offer... that I don't think you would want to refuse."

Jaime swallowed nervously, unsure of what to say. "And what is your offer?"

"You. Me. My room. A six pack of condoms," Margaery said, before licking her lips in a way that was downright sinful. "What do you say?"

The answer came quick as a heartbeat.

"I'm sorry, I can't."

Margaery's mouth dropped open in surprise. "Why? I don't just hand out that offer to everyone, you know. I'm not the town bike."

"I'm sure," replied Jaime politely, stepping away from her so he did not feel so pulled into her orbit. "But I don't really want to..."

"Why? Are you gay?"

"No!" said Jaime indignantly, astounded that Margaery's arrogance was so huge that she couldn't believe any man would turn her down unless he was a homosexual. "I just can't sleep with you because..."

"Yes?"

"Because..."

" _Yes?"_

Letting out a huff of annoyance, Jaime dropped his voice to barely a whisper, not wanting the woman of his dreams (who was still standing on the other side of the door) to hear him. "Because I only agreed to come here with you because I wanted to spend more time with Brienne... because I _like_ Brienne and she barely notices I exist."

Margaery considered that statement for a few moments, before tilting her head to the side. " _You_ like _Brienne?"_

"Yes," replied Jaime, irritated that Margaery could not see how wonderful her supposed best friend was. "She's kind and clever and..."

Margaery waved her hand in front of his face, silencing him at once. "Don't get me wrong, she's great, but... well, _I_ didn't pick up on the fact that you fancied her, so she's definitely not going to. Brienne would not notice if a man was attracted to her if he wrote it on his chest in purple and danced naked in front of her face. She doesn't even bother to date or chase anyone she likes or _anything._ So, if you want to woo her, you will have to make a big grand gesture that even _she_ wouldn't be able to mistake."

"Like what?" asked Jaime, a little desperately, suddenly seeing Margaery as more a love guru than an obstacle.

Margaery ran her fingers over her chin, thinking about it. "I don't know. That girl is _oblivious,_ so you'll have to give me time. Whatever it is would have to be really, _really_ big. We may even have to get in support from Renly and Loras; Brienne can be obnoxiously dense sometimes."

Given how wrong everything had gone with Cersei, Jaime was a little overwhelmed that Margaery was planning on actively helping him in his quest to woo Brienne, especially as she had wanted him for herself. "You'd help me?" asked Jaime, surprised at Margaery's generosity.

Margaery shrugged, before her grin grew predatorial once more. "If I can't have your perfect ass, I would only be too happy to help Brienne tap that. I can always go back to Jalabhar Xho, or even have a go on Daario Naharis from the Reprographics Department. You are not the be all and end all of men, Jaime."

Overwhelmed by her support, Jaime could only smile at Margaery gratefully. "Thank you so much," he said, relief flooding him that he might be on the cusp of getting some actual help in terms of wooing Brienne. "What do I do next?"

"We've got to brainstorm," said Margaery firmly, a plan forming behind her eyes. "And maybe... then... a little bit of espionage..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! If you have any ideas what Jaime and Margaery should do to win over Brienne, let me know in the comments!
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	48. The Love Vaccine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virologist Brienne is forced to work with scientist Jaime to find a vaccine for greyscale, and sparks fly...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I have had two prompts for a lab partners AU sitting in my askbox for ages, so here is part 1. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> (You may notice references to the current situation... I am sorry, I could not resist).

The _Qyburn Medal_ was an annual prize awarded for the greatest breakthrough in medical science by a research team that year and, ever since Brienne had worked at Winterfell University, the department had been hungering for one. In fact, on her very first day, the Head of Department had made that ambition very clear to her when she pointed to the last _Qyburn Medal_ \- encased in glass - that had been won by a research team at Winterfell in the past.

"Rickard Stark won this medal twenty years ago for his research into dragon pox. Maybe the medal can come home to Winterfell once again," Professor Catelyn Stark had said, staring up at the prize in misty wonder. "I hear you have been doing some very interesting work on greyscale, is that correct?"

Brienne had pushed glasses firmly up her nose and nodded vigorously. "Tarth University only has a small medicine department, but we did a lot of research on the transmission of greyscale in colder climates."

Catelyn gave her a knowing look. It was clear she had looked into Brienne's previous studies and found them commendable. "I hope you will be able to replicate some of that work here."

"Of course," said Brienne with a shy smile. "That and more."

She was determined to keep her promise. During her first few months at Winterfell, Brienne was put in a team with Doctor Loras Tyrell and Doctor Renly Baratheon, and the three of them made a productive, if a little unimaginative group. Doctor Tyrell specialised in the disease in children, while Doctor Baratheon was focused on locating the precise protein that would facilitate an immune system response in greyscale patients. He was passionate about the work, wonderfully kind, and an all-round great colleague.

Naturally, Brienne fell for him, even though she should have known it was impossible. She was her, after all, and, in the case of Renly, she was a she.

"I am sorry," he said, in the shadowed office where she unburdened his heart to him. "Can we still be friends?"

"Of course," she thought. "I don't want to lose you."

"And I you."

That night, Brienne went and cried herself to sleep, wishing and wishing she did not have a heart, then it would never break. She was always giving her heart to people and never getting one in return.

 _It is impossible,_ she told herself, _when I look like me. Even if Renly wasn't gay, he could never love me._

_I wish I could vaccinate these feelings away, inoculate myself against love._

Yet as hard as she tried, Brienne could not lock her feelings away. She fell in love every day - romantically, platonically, in a sisterly way, in a friendly way - with nearly every person who crossed her path. She could not help but care. Due to the weight of her feelings, Brienne found herself weeping along with Professor Stark when her husband died, and when their daughter Sansa got her dream job in a graphic design firm. She sobbed like a baby when Renly died in a freak car accident, and had to get a month off work to deal with her grief, and then again a year later when Loras announced he was happily moving in with his new boyfriend. Her heart broke for one of her undergraduate students - Podrick Payne - who had no family to speak of, so needed encouragement and mothering. She gladly took him under her wing. Brienne felt and felt and felt for other people so much that she often felt as if she were bleeding herself, while weightless and dancing.

That was until Doctor Jaime Lannister arrived to join her and Loras' research team, and Brienne experienced loathing for the first time. When it came to him, Brienne did not need a vaccine against love, but against hate.

"I am sorry to load him on you," said Catelyn, her tone tentative. "I know you and Loras have been working hard on the vaccine..."

Brienne could not help but snap back. "Catelyn, this new strain of greyscale is the worst we've ever seen. It started in Yi Ti and is now spreading at an alarming rate, and unless we find a vaccine, life is not going to be normal again for a very long time."

"I know," sighed Catelyn, sounding disheartened. "But _Lannister Pharmaceuticals_ is offering us a lot of funding, and Doctor Lannister is the price. His father is the head of the company, after all."

Unable to stop herself making a dissatisfied tutting sound, Brienne rolled her eyes. "But we all know the stories about Doctor Lannister; how he was kicked out of King's Landing for unethical practices. Surely Loras and I can do this ourselves? Our research is already..."

She was going to say that their research was already yielding positive results, but Catelyn did not let her finish. Instead, she her a consoling pat on the arm. "I'm sorry, Brienne. I didn't want this, but the university railroaded me. Seriously, if you and Loras want to ignore all Doctor Lannister's suggestions, you totally have my permission. Tywin Lannister is a megalomaniacal criminal who has been inflating the price of medicines for years. I doubt his son is much better."

Unfortunately, there was no ignoring Jaime Lannister. The day he came swaggering into Loras and Brienne's shared office, he looked like half a god, drunk on his own pride and beauty. Even though she was the type of woman who usually had control over herself, the sight of his particular brand of golden-haired, green-eyed hotness had Brienne slightly weak at the knees. It made her furiously angry with herself, as she was already determined to hate him. Luckily, Doctor Lannister provided her with a reason the second he opened his mouth.

"Hey, you must be Doctor Tyrell," he said, extending his hand to Brienne to shake. "I'm Doctor Jaime Lannister, your new colleague. Where is Doctor Tarth. Is she about?"

Brienne's mouth instantly stretched into a line of disapproval. " _I_ am Doctor Tarth and this is Doctor Tyrell. We are your new colleagues."

"Oh sorry," grinned Doctor Lannister apologetically, in a way that made her heart race. "I had been told Doctor Tarth was a woman."

It was like a slap in the face. Loras gasped dramatically, his shock written over his face, as Brienne flushed brilliantly. She did not need model-esque Doctor Lannister reminding her of how ugly she was, especially as that only awakened her _I'm never going to be loved_ tendencies. She felt her emotions surging through her body as she went to answer him, in a voice that was clipped, irritated, and full of venom.

"I _am_ a woman."

His eyes went wide in horror at his mistake. The sight was annoyingly pretty. "Oh gods, I'm sorry."

"Whatever," spat Brienne, pushing past him to get to the door. She would not let him fluster her, either with his good looks or his rudeness. "Loras can show you around."

She left her two colleagues alone, if only so they could not see her tears.

Over the next few weeks, Doctor Lannister tried everything to get in Brienne's good books, but she ignored him at every turn. She did not eat the cupcakes that he brought in for his new colleagues. She refused to join him and Loras for a drink after work, and she never laughed at any of his stupid jokes.

It eventually got to him.

"Do you dislike me Tarth?" he asked, one morning when he came to lounge next to her computer while she responded to some emails. He perched right by the side of her keyboard, so she could see the long, sculpted length of his leg, the powerful, coiled strength of his arm, and smell the musky masculine scent of him. Brienne loathed how attractive he was.

Blushing, she did not deign him with eye contact. "Is it that obvious?"

Doctor Lannister let out a little chuckle. "Painfully. What have I done to upset you? If it's because I thought you were a man, I apologise. I didn't mean to cause offence."

"That is just the first of your many sins," she said stiffly. "Others include getting here on daddy's coattails after you were kicked out of KLU for unethical practices and I heard you ate the last of the Chocolate Oreos in the staff canteen yesterday, even though I had specifically bought them for Catelyn."

His handsome smile dropped in an instant. "On the second point, I didn't realise, and on the first... there's more to that than first appears. Maybe you would find out if you just asked me."

"I'm sure," she said tartly, refusing to respond to his fishing. Obviously, he would just attempt to twist her round his little finger with a sob story and a handsome smile. "Can you leave me alone please? I have emails to answer, and I am determined to find a vaccine for greyscale."

He had obliged with an amused quirk of the lips. "So am I, Tarth, and I think that will be easier if we can work together as a team. I am an expert immunologist, while you are a virologist of the highest calibre. Maybe we should have a truce and try and move forward. _Lannister Pharmaceuticals_ is here to stay, so I am too. Are you willing to work with me?"

 _No,_ thought Brienne. _You are already under my skin, and I don't like it._

"You need trust to have a truce," barked Brienne, typing more furiously to distract from his burning green eyes. "And I don't trust you. Loras and I can find this cure without you. We've been planning to do that for years, anyway."

Doctor Lannister nodded, obviously accepting the state of affairs that she laid before him. Unfortunately, he did not offer acknowledgement of defeat. Instead, his stare lingered on her for a few more moments before he got to his feet and gave her a teasing grin. Brienne could not help but feel as if she was prey being toyed with by a predator.

"Fine, Tarth. But I am determined to find this cure too, and I will do it without _you_."

She scoffed. "Fine!"

"Fine," he smirked, running a sinewed hand through his golden hair. The movement caught her attention and made her look up at him. Gods, he was irritatingly beautiful. Perhaps reading her mind, Doctor Lannister laughed and his small victory only made him grin wider. Brienne could do nothing but flush in embarrassment. "I'll see you on the battlefield, Tarth."

His tongue skirted across his bottom lip in anticipation of a fight, and Brienne could not help but stare. Internally, she kicked herself and prayed for a vaccine against lust. He was abominably good looking, even though he was abominable.

"May the best man win," she said tightly, her jaw locked.

Jaime laughed again, this time all golden sun and sweet honey. It made the hairs on her arm stand on end. "I thought you said you were a woman?"

"I _am_!" she growled, standing up in order to look him straight in the eye. A bolt of energy rippled through them both at that, as Brienne was able to look down on him from above, asserting her dominance.

Jaime's Adam's Apple bobbed up and down in his throat. "Good, I love a woman who can give me a challenge."

With one last knowing smile, he turned on his heel and left the room in an instant, leaving Brienne to watch him go. As the door swung shut, she could not help but notice something move in her heart.

She hoped she had a heart murmur. The alternative was that she was feeling something for him...

And _that_ was an emotion she needed to be inoculated against. _Fast._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading. I would love to hear what you think!
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	49. The Sea King's Rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While taking Myrcella and Tommen to a water park, Uncle Jaime meets Mermaid Brienne...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is a piece of fluff requested by inksanddaisies on tumblr, who asked for "A second idea for a one shot: Brienne as a mermaiding performer and Jamie as the captivated visitor who had to make up a nice day for his nephew and niece at the Evenfall Ressort".
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

"Uncle Jaime! Myrcy stole my popcorn!"

Myrcella rolled her eyes. "No I didn't, Tommen! You've just eaten all yours and you want some of mine."

"Well you should learn to share!" he huffed accusingly.

Laughing to himself, Jaime put a gentle hand on Tommen's shoulder. "Don't worry, I'll get you some more afterwards."

"But I want some _now,_ " said his nephew, pouting like the little boy of eight he truly was. "Can I have some?"

Knowing that Tommen would not shut up for the whole mermaid show unless he got his way, Jaime handed his nephew _his_ popcorn. "There you go, Tommen. You can have mine."

"Thank you Uncle Jaime!" the little boy cried, before stuffing one chubby hand into the bucket and pulling out a great handful of popcorn.

"Don't eat it all at once."

"I won't!" grinned Tommen through a mouthful of popcorn. Jaime knew his little nephew would struggle to keep his promise.

Nevertheless, Jaime was grateful they were here. Cersei and Robert had gone off on a summer holiday to Dorne, and asked Jaime to watch the kids. As he himself had some extra holiday time from the law firm, he had decided he wouldn't just have his nephew and niece lounge around in his flat in sweltering hot King's Landing; they would no doubt be climbing the walls before the week was out. Instead, he had decided to take them on their own holiday to _Water Worlds Environmental Park_ on Tarth. Tommen did love learning about animals and Myrcella loved mermaids, after all. Consequently, they were now waiting for the park's mermaid show to start, popcorn in hand.

"Are they _real_ mermaids, Uncle Jaime?" asked Tommen, as the lights started to come up on the large water tank at the centre of the arena spectacular seating.

Jaime chuckled. "Oh yes. They were fished out of Shipbreaker's Bay by _Water Worlds_ to entertain all the bored King's Landing tourists who come here during the summer."

"Really?"

"Really," smiled Jaime, enjoying his nephew's wide-eyed innocence.

Myrcella pulled a face. "Tommen, you are so stupid. Of course they are not _real_ mermaids."

"I'm not stupid!" Tommen cried, through yet another mouthful of popcorn.

"Yes you are!"

"No I'm--"

Luckily, at that moment music started blaring out of all the speakers in the stadium at once, meaning Jaime did not have to intervene, as Myrcella and Tommen had both turned their attention to the water tank with the stage set behind it, as three mermaids appeared from backstage. The crowd started cheering and clapping.

"Welcome to _Water Worlds Environmental Park!_ " said the honey-haired siren into a microphone, her costume glittering in the sunlight. "I am Mermaid Margaery, and I am here to introduce you to the magic of the ocean!"

At that, her sister mermaid - a slender, blue-eyed girl with flaming red hair - introduced herself. "And I am Mermaid Sansa, who will teach you all about the creatures who live in the sea."

"Wooow!" said Myrcella slowly, her eyes wide. "Margaery and Sansa are so pretty!"

In spite of Myrcella's exclamation, Jaime's eyes were not on the two visions of aquatic loveliness that _Water Worlds Environmental Park_ had already presented to him, but the third mermaid that stood behind them. She was taller than Margaery and Sansa with a figure that looked as if it belonged to a weightlifter rather than a siren, with limp blonde hair pathetically adorned with a wilting blue flower. Jaime did not know whether to laugh or not.

"And this..." said Mermaid Margaery dramatically, pulling the giant mermaid forward, "is Mermaid Brienne, who will be demonstrating all the magical powers of the sea."

To Jaime's surprise, Mermaid Brienne only gave a small wave to the crowd, which looked a little abashed and nervous. It was strange for a performer, he thought, but nevertheless cheered along with Tommen, Myrcella, and the rest of the crowd. Amidst the applause, Margaery and Sansa stepped forward and started to sing a song about all the wonderful creatures that lived in the sea. Tommen and Myrcella clapped along, especially as images of endangered wildlife were then projected into the pool to make it appear as if they were truly swimming there. Jaime's niece and nephew were gasping and cooing in excitement as Mermaid Margaery and Mermaid Sansa explained all the various animals that flashed across the scene, but Jaime was still too busy watching Mermaid Brienne to pay close attention. She was not singing along with Margaery and Sansa, but was climbing up to the top of a very high diving board that overlooked the tank.

 _She's not going to dive, is she?_ Jaime wondered, stupidly. Yet when she reached the top of the ladder, he had his answer. _Yes, I think she is!_

At university, Jaime had spent his days diving for the swim team, and had even had hope for the Olympics. The fact that he had been the whistle-blower to his coach, Aerys Targaryen's habit for doping his protege's had ended that dream, though. It had cost him his career, and sometimes he still missed it, but it meant right at this moment that Jaime's eyes were only for Brienne as she reached the end of the diving board.

"And just like a dolphin," announced Mermaid Sansa, "Brienne is going to dive through the air for us!"

The crowd made a loud _ooooooohhhh_ sound as Brienne reached the edge of the diving board and immediately got into an armstand position, holding the weight of her body up on her hands. In a moment, Jaime went from thinking she made quite an unconvincing mermaid to wondering whether she was a literal sea goddess; all sinewy muscle, disciplined control, and long, _long_ legs.

And then she dived - well, _flew_ actually - and it took Jaime's breath away.

She landed so gracefully it was as if she truly belonged to the ocean.

* * *

In the end, the show lasted an hour, with Margaery and Sansa singing songs and teaching the kids about sea creatures, while the water tank flashed with projections of the animals they were describing. Brienne dived, and dived, and dived. She never looked tired, or red faced, or uncomfortable. No, she simply looked as if she was born to do it, and Jaime could not help but admire her natural talent or the seamless way she performed the dives while Margaery and Sansa twittered on about fish.

"Thank you for coming to our show, everyone!" cried Margaery when the show drew to a close, and she was lining up with Sansa and Brienne, bowing.

"But that is not truly the end!" added Sansa. "If any children wish to come and have their photos taken with the mermaid, please come to the front!"

Excited by that thought, Tommen and Myrcella turned to Jaime as one and, in unison, said, "can we go and have our photos taken with the mermaids, Uncle Jaime?"

As Jaime's attention was already on Mermaid Brienne, now running her fingers through her wet hair, he could only agree. "Of course. You two definitely need a picture with the mermaids. Come on, let's go!"

By the time the three of them had scrabbled out of the seats and made their way to the centre of the arena, the three mermaids were lining up by the water tank to take pictures with the kids. As expected, lots of the dads with children were queuing up by Sansa and Margaery, wanting to take pictures with the two blandly pretty mermaids who had sung songs about the importance of saving endangered fish. Jaime's eyes were only for the third mermaid, however. As Brienne had spent the entire show jumping in and out of the water, she was still a little damp, in comparison to Margaery and Sansa in their made-up glamour. Nevertheless, like her colleagues, Brienne was still wearing her mermaid costume; a skin-tight blue swimming costume with a tapering skirt. Yet hers was devoid of the pretty jewels that Margaery and Sansa's outfits had. Instead, it was practically and proudly unadorned, coloured like the sea. It was a rich blue colour, deep and wonderful and inviting. It had nothing on the colour of her eyes though. From his seat in the stadium, Jaime had not been able to see her eyes, but now he was this close, he could see they were just the type that was able to peer into his soul.

Given that there were no people waiting to take photos with Brienne, when she noticed Jaime, Myrcella, and Tommen lingering, she gave them a tentative smile. "Can I help you? Would you like a photo with a mermaid?"

"Yes please!" cried Myrcella, pulling Tommen forward with her. "Uncle Jaime, can you take the photo?"

"Sure," smiled Jaime, casually, taking his phone out of his pocket. "It's only fair that the two of you get photos taken with the best diver in the business."

Brienne's cheeks were flushed when she looked at him, her eyes rolling over him from head to toe. It was almost as if she was weighing him up. " _Uncle_ Jaime?"

"Uncle Jaime," he repeated, as Myrcella and Tommen lined up next to Brienne. She put her strong arms around them both, and he could not help but notice she was covered in freckles. "My sister Cersei is away with her husband on holiday. I said I would take care of my lovely niece and nephew while she was away, and they wanted to see real life mermaids... and I was intrigued by the one who could perform a back armstand double somersault without even blinking."

Brienne raised a curious eyebrow at him. "You know about diving?"

"I was thinking about doing it professionally at college, but then..."

"Uncle Jaime!" piped up Myrcella, causing him to stop staring at Brienne with the blue eyes. "Can you just take the photo, please? We want photos with Sansa and Margaery too!"

"Yeah!" chorused Tommen in agreement.

"Sorry, Mermaid Brienne," said Jaime with a smile, "Tommen and Myrcella are rarely in agreement, so I really should take this photo."

Brienne let out a shy little laugh. It made a shiver run up Jaime's spine. "Fine. You should do your Uncle duties."

"Alright," said Jaime, holding up his phone to take the picture as Mermaid Brienne, Tommen, and Myrcella all got in position for the photo. "Say cheese."

"CHEESE!"

Jaime took several photos for good luck, before going to put the phone back in his pocket. Myrcella objected at once. "No, Uncle Jaime. _You_ have to have a photo with Brienne too!"

"I don't think Brienne wants a photo with me..." Jaime said lamely, even though he knew full well that Mermaid Brienne had not taken her eyes of him since he approached her.

"Yes you do," said Myrcella imperiously, every inch her mother's daughter, as she came and took the phone back out of Jaime's pocket. "Go stand next to Brienne. I'll take the picture."

At first, Jaime thought about refusing, but then Mermaid Brienne extended her hand towards him, and he found himself shuffling into position and putting an arm around her waist. This close, Jaime could not help but notice the wired strength in her limbs, and the fact that she was taller than him. Normally, none of those things would have done it for him, but there was something about Brienne that was making him feel a little faint. As Myrcella took the photos of them, Jaime gazed at Brienne out of the corner of his eye; ugly, attractive, and awe-inspiring all at once. She really was something.

"They're showing a film about the importance of protecting marine ecosystems in the Water Dome at three o'clock tomorrow afternoon, in a way that is friendly for kids," Brienne said suddenly, hitting him with a curious look. Her eyes were the colour of the sea. "You should come... with the kids, of course... if you want."

"Sounds great, I'll see you there," replied Jaime, his arm still round her waist, as Myrcella took one final picture. He had no real intention of moving it, at least not until Tommen interrupted again.

"Ohhh, Uncle Jaime! Mermaid Sansa is free now! Come on, we need to take photos!"

Brienne removed herself from his grasp. "You should probably go and please your niece and nephew, _Uncle Jaime_ ," she said, as Tommen and Myrcella scampered off towards Mermaid Sansa. "Mermaid Sansa is normally very popular."

Jaime just continued to look into Brienne's blue eyes, quite enchanted. "As long as you have time to talk to me after the film tomorrow. I think Tommen, Myrcella, and I have a reservation booked for the Aquarium Restaurant straight afterwards. I am sure Tommen and Myrcella would love to have dinner with a real mermaid?"

"Just Tommen and Myrcella?" asked Brienne quickly, clearly deciding to get the words out while she was feeling brave. "Or is Uncle Jaime interested in having dinner with a real mermaid too?"

"Oh, Uncle Jaime is _definitely_ interested," he smirked, before turning to go away. "In fact, he'll be quite disappointed if you are not there."

Brienne blushed so furiously that her freckles almost disappeared.

"I'll think about it," she replied, chewing at her lip. "After all, it is against the sea king's rules. Mermaids and mortals usually don't mix."

Jaime let out a little laugh. "Sometimes, there are things worth breaking the sea king's rules for, don't you think?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks ever so much for reading! As ever, I would love to hear what you think in the form of a comment or kudos.
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	50. Belonging in the Moonlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After facing Lady Stoneheart, Jaime and Brienne talk...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this one was inspired by a prompt in the 50 kisses challenge. lovelylittlewren asked for a combination of 1 and 36, which are 'Small kisses littered across the other’s face' and 'Starting with eskimo kisses before moving on to soft kisses'. I hope you enjoy!

"We should keep riding," said Brienne firmly from behind him, her arms wrapped around his waist as he directed their horse. "Who knows how many men the Brotherhood have in these parts?"

Jaime knew she was right, that it was entirely possible that Harwin and Lem and gods knows who else had followed them into the woods, but he found it difficult to care as Brienne was injured. Horribly injured. She had arrived at his camp with half her face bitten off and her arm hanging limp at her side, but now it was worse than that...

It was a wound of the heart.

"Wench, we should rest here, _that_ is what we should do," he said gruffly, pulling the sick, skeletal horse they shared towards a nearby tree so they could bed down in the wooded clearing they found themselves in for the night. At any other point in their relationship, Jaime would have expected Brienne to fight back against his suggestion, but now there was an emptiness behind her eyes that had robbed her of all the fighting spirit he had admired in her. Instead, she just looked weak, especially when he helped her off her horse, as she just meekly acquiesced to his help in a way she never would have before. It unnerved him.

As he awkwardly tied their horse to a tree, Jaime tried to raise her spirits.

"Come wench," he said in a voice he hoped was warm and welcoming, "you should eat, you look hungry."

She did not meet his eyes. "I'm not hungry."

"Oh yes you are," Jaime replied, smiling. "A knight needs to keep up her strength, so you can have the bread that I know is in the knapsack we smuggled from the Brotherhood's hideout."

"I do not want it, ser."

Jaime laughed; it was better than letting his heart break at the sight of his wench crumbling before his eyes. "But you must have it, my lady. It is you who has performed daring feats of valour this day, not me." He had meant to cheer her up with that comment, but it only made her slump her shoulders and turn away from him, the light dying in her eyes.

She went to sit on a downed tree at the centre of the clearing, her back turned to him, so Jaime busied himself retrieving the bread from the saddlebag. He was determined that she would eat. Jaime knew it was a hard thing, breaking a vow, so could understand why she wore it heavily. Brienne of Tarth had sliced Oathkeeper through the mutilated neck of Lady Catelyn Stark in order to save his sorry hide and now had to live with the immense guilt of it. Although fifteen years since the death of Aerys Targaryen told Jaime that such feelings never truly passed, he was determined that Brienne - his bright knight in shining armour - would not be mired in such shame.

She was too good. Far, _far_ too good to suffer that pain.

"Here," he said when he went to sit beside her on the log, extending the bread towards her. "You should eat, wench."

In spite of his concerned tone, Brienne folded her arms across her chest and continued not to look at him. "I am quite alright, Jaime. I told you. I do not wish to eat."

"You should eat," he said firmly, depositing the husk of bread on her lap. "You've been fighting, and I..."

"I told you, I don't want to eat!" she snapped, with the first hint of emotion she had shown since they had escaped the Brotherhood. It sounded like anger. Tilting her legs away from him enabled her to turn back on him and she continued to refuse to pick the bread up. " _You_ should eat it, Jaime. You need to go back to your army. You need to keep your strength up. You need..."

"I'm not going back to my army," he said, the words escaping his lips before he had thought them.

For the first time since they had escaped the Brotherhood, Brienne looked up at him. Although she was sad to the depths of her soul, her eyes were as they had always been; pretty and calm. They gathered the moonlight.

"You are not?"

"No. I'm staying here with you... until you eat."

She blushed. "You will be waiting a very long time then, ser."

"Why?"

"Because I do not wish to eat!" she cried, turning to face him properly. "How can I? I just killed Lady Catelyn, I..."

" _That_ was not Lady Catelyn," replied Jaime. He had to use all his self-control not to cup her face with his hand. "That was a horrible wraith devoid of everything good that Lady Catelyn possessed, who asked you to do dishonourable things and then still murdered your friends anyway. Do not waste your heart on her."

At the mention of Pod and Hyle, Brienne's eyes filled with tears as she hunched over even more, closing in on herself. "Pod was just a boy... an _innocent._ And Hyle, for all his faults, did not deserve to die... die like... _oh!"_

Brienne did not finish her sentence as she completely collapsed in on herself, her head in her hands, and before Jaime could stop himself, he had bundled her into his arms, the bread dropping to the floor as he did so. Part of him had expected Brienne to resist his embrace, but instead she wrapped her arms around his waist and wept on his shoulder. It surprised him how easily her body fit into the curve of his.

"Hush, wench. Don't cry. There is nothing you could have done..."

When Brienne replied, her voice was strangled by her tears as she gazed up at him. "Nothing I could have done? I was sworn to her and ran a sword through her neck!"

"She was going to kill you," he replied fervently, one of his hands jumping to her cheek to wipe away the tears. It only registered that it was the injured one when Brienne winced, and Jaime had to pull away in order not to hurt her. "You had to do it, it was her life or yours, it was..."

The look in her eyes - pointed and shocked and strangely hurt - made Jaime stop speaking. "Do you think that was why I did it?" she sobbed, choking on her sadness. "To save my own sorry hide?"

"Yes," said Jaime, wanting to tell her the truth and wanting to comfort her and not really knowing how to do either without offending her. "I mean... not that I think you have a _sorry hide,_ wench, but she was going to kill you. She was going to..."

Brienne tilted her chin up, all indignation and pride even through her tears. "I would have let her kill me rather than break my oath, Jaime. I did not do it for me."

"You didn't?" he asked confusedly.

"No!"

Jaime pressed his mouth into a bemused line. Nothing made sense. When Brienne had sliced Oathkeeper through Lady Stoneheart's throat - tearing sinew and bone - Pod and Hyle had already been dead for some time.

_Unless..._

"Wench..."

"What, Ser Jaime?"

The use of his title hit some tender centre in his heart that he had long kept defended. Brienne, of course, had disarmed him long ago. "If not for yourself... why did you do it? Why did you kill the lady?"

Once again, Brienne turned away. Her eyes seemed even bluer in the moonlight.

"You are not what they say you are," she said quietly, her words almost catching on some long suppressed emotion. Jaime could not help but hold his breath, eager to hear every word. "You saved me from a bear when you did not have to, you saved me from Hoat and his men even when you hated me, you gave me a magic sword that I tarnished. I failed you, again and again, so the least I could do was save you as you saved me..."

She looked so fragile, even though she was still as big, tall, and strong as ever that Jaime could hardly bear it. Needing to comfort her, he drew her into his arms once more. "You've not failed me, sweet girl. You could never fail me. _You_ saved _me_."

"And broke my oath in the process!" Brienne cried, her big body shuddering against his. Although she was sad, it felt so good to have her close, to cradle and comfort. He would not lie to her in trying to soothe her, but would try to offer her solace, nevertheless.

Jaime sighed. What he had to say would be hard, but it was the only thing he could think of that might help. "You get used to it eventually, breaking your oath by doing the right thing I mean." He paused, a horrible thought suddenly striking him. "You do think it was the right thing to do, don't you? Saving me."

"I..." Brienne stammered, gazing at him with those big blue eyes of hers. For a moment, it seemed as if she was struggling with what to say, but then her expression turned serious. It felt as meaningful as her arms around his waist. "I would have no one hurt you, Ser Jaime. No one. Not Lady Catelyn, not her ghost, not the Bloody Mummers, nor people who do not know you and do not understand how very good you are."

Jaime almost laughed at her wide-eyed, misguided sincerity. "I am not good, sweetling," he said sadly, thinking of his soiled cloak, his tainted heart, and his blood soaked hands. "I am the Kingslayer, I am a horrible person, I am..."

"No you are not," she insisted, impassioned, her hands cupping his face. "You are good, and you are noble, and you've saved me so many times, and it kills me that no one can see it. You do not deserve to be despised, but happy and cherished and..."

He kissed her. It seemed the only logical thing to do.

Brienne froze against his mouth, so Jaime pulled back slightly so he could look into her eyes. His wench gazed at him with shock, fear, and maybe an unsaid command to _go on._ Impulsive to the bone, Jaime leant forward once more, but this time he went slow. Lifting his hand to her cheek - her ruined, mangled cheek - he covered the wound so not to hurt her. Brienne's own hands dropped to his shoulders, bolstering herself for impact, so it made him determined to go gentle. To help her nerves unspool, Jaime rubbed his nose against hers, and she found the courage to respond. As her fingers were digging into his shoulders, Jaime tried to soothe her by raining soft kisses down on her cheeks, on the bridge of her nose, her chin, her eyelids, and her forehead. It was only when he could feel her breath, hard and excited, against his lips that he pulled back.

"Brienne, I am going to kiss you now," he said firmly. "Push me in the dirt where I belong if you don't want me too."

She touched his face again and her fingers were warm. "You don't belong in the dirt, Ser Jaime. You belong here, with me, in the moonlight."

And then she kissed him - _at last, of course_ \- and the whole world felt wonderful and perfect and right for the first time in Jaime's whole life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! As ever, I would love to hear what you think in a comment or kudos!
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	51. They Always Said They Hated Each Other

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne always said they hated each other, but is it really true?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this was inspired by an anonymous prompt on tumblr "pretending to hate each other". It veered off that a little, but I hope you enjoy!

They always said they hated each other from the moment they could talk, from when Brienne was two and Jaime three, and they had been put down on the carpet with the building blocks and told to _play nicely._ Jaime had stolen her blocks off her and then she had bitten him, which in retrospect wasn't very nice. Their parents took them home and told them they weren't to play with each other again unless they could learn to share.

They always said they hated each other because their personalities didn't mesh well. Aged five, they got separated on a trip to a local wildlife park because they had ended up wrestling over the pond dipping equipment. In the end, she dunked him in the pond and then he pulled her in too to say thanks. They both nearly drowned, their teachers yelled at them, but the chance of winding each other up was worth it all the same.

Brienne always said she hated him because she hated his twin sister, who was vain, conceited, and horrible to everyone. No matter how many times Brienne tried to play the valiant knight in shining armour for Margaery when Cersei started her mean little games, the blonde menace would always just laugh it off and come back doubly as hard. Jaime never did anything about it, so it made Brienne hate him more, because he seemed like an extension of his terrible sister.

Jaime always said he hated her because Brienne was so superior in class. She always knew the answers to the questions the teacher asked, and was never ashamed when she made him feel stupid, even as the letters on the page danced before his eyes. He called her a swot and she called him rude, and then they both got detention when he threw a paper plane at her head and she threw it back.

At secondary school they still hated each other, even when he shot up two foot and she two and a half. His voice broke and he got all muscled and sexy, while her voice broke and she got all muscled and _unsexy_. It didn't change things between them. They still exchanged pointed barbs across Chemistry class, although now he told Cersei to shut up when she was rude about Brienne's braces.

The only thing that did change things between them was when Brienne started to get stalked. A boy who went by the name Biter a few years above them at school would follow her home and watch her with his cool, unreadable eyes. She didn't like admitting it, but Biter scared her. It was alright during the summer, when she could walk fast during the light hours. However, during winter, Biter was emboldened to come closer, so one day she found herself fighting him off down a side alley near her house. His teeth had just sunk into her cheek when she heard a voice - Jaime's - and then his fist careered into Biter's side, knocking him off balance. The following wrestle had won Jaime a broken wrist and Biter a sentence in juvie, but it buried some of the long held resentment that Jaime and Brienne shared, especially when he visited her hospital bed after her skin graft.

He even held her hand.

"I'm sorry I was mean to you and stole your blocks," Jaime confessed quietly as she gazed at him, fuzzy headed because of the pain killers. "It was just that I liked you and wanted your attention and didn't know how to say so."

Brienne gave him a small smile. "I'm sorry too. I wasn't always very nice to you either."

"That's okay," Jaime mumbled, blushing. "Is this a truce?"

"I suppose it is... but can I still say I hate you? Having an arch-enemy is too much fun."

After that, Brienne no longer believed they hated each other, but neither did they say they were friends. They hung round at lunch together, sure, and she went to his band's gigs at _The Pennytree._ They did homework together, and watched scary movies at the cinema, and went walking in the woods at the weekend when Jaime wanted to avoid his dad. They cuddled a lot and he even plaited her hair once, and she dreamed of what it would be like if he kissed her. Rumours circulated that they were an item, but Cersei had that shouted down by arranging for Jaime to attend prom with her friend Melara.

"Are you okay with that?" Jaime asked, when he told Brienne that his sister had meticulously matched him with a girl who was his equal in looks and wealth.

Brienne shrugged, trying to pretend she didn't care. "Sure, whatever."

Jaime dropped his gaze.

"Right," he replied slowly. For a moment, he looked disappointed as if he was going to say something.

He didn't of course.

In the end, Brienne did not go to prom. Nobody had asked her, and all her friends were going with someone else, after all. From what Catelyn told her, Jaime and Melara danced together all night, and even smooched on the dance floor as if this was the climax of some high school rom-com.

In response, Brienne cried herself to sleep and told herself she hated him.

Once Jaime and Melara were officially a couple, Brienne found it easier to distance herself from him, because she did not want to watch Melara drape herself all over him in spaces where it had once only been Brienne and Jaime. She did not go to the graduation party that Jaime threw at the Lannister Mansion, and gave him lame excuses about why she couldn't hang out with him before they finally went their separate ways and went off to university.

Given how much she was avoiding him, in the end, Jaime turned up at her house on one of her last nights in town, and they ended up lying in her garden looking up at the stars, pretending to be philosophers.

"Things won't change between us, will they?" he asked tentatively. "Once we go away to University?"

She wanted to tell him that things had already changed, as something had shifted inside her that would never go back. The hatred had passed many years ago, but at least that had been easy to declare. This other emotion - warm and bright and all consuming - could only be locked tight so he couldn't see it, lest he pity her, and she couldn't let that happen.

Consequently, she held his hand and lied. "Of course nothing will change. I'll hate you forever."

He laughed. "I haven't believed you mean that when you say it for years, you know."

"Keep telling yourself that," said Brienne, her tone warm and friendly. Jaime responded by nudging her in the ribs, then pulling her into his chest for a cuddle, and kissing the top of her head.

For a moment, Brienne let herself dream.

Yet in spite of all their promises, things inevitably changed. Jaime went off to his father's alma mater at Casterly Rock to do a business course, while Brienne studied environmental sciences at Winterfell. She made new friends, but none of her friendships burned in the way her one with Jaime had. Indeed, she found she had to watch from a distance as he dumped Melara and made a name for himself in Lannisport as one of the most desirable bachelors in the Seven Kingdoms. She doubted whether he was completing his "business degree", as he seemed to be permanently splashed on the front cover of some magazine, falling out of a nightclub.

On one such night towards the end on their first year, he messaged her.

 _Jaime:_ U wake?

 _Brienne:_ No. It's the middle of the night. What do you want?

 _Jaime:_ I luv you u mak my heart sing n I cant stop thinkin bout you even tho ur there n im here. I wanna kiss u and date u and fuck u and one day marry u n have babiez wit u n it hurts me u arent here wit me an u didnt care bout prum, cos I wanted to by u flowars n dance wit u and kiss u till we ran outta breath. I always have

Brienne rolled her eyes before turning off her phone. Obviously, Jaime was drunk and had meant to type this illegible ramble to one of his many booty calls in Lannisport, so she decided the best thing to do was ignore him. It hurt less that way, as she would not get her hopes up only to have them inevitably crushed when he was sober again.

 _He could never want me like that,_ she told herself. _Not me._

Brienne had meant to text him in the morning to check everything was alright, of course, but she forgot due to the fact that Pod had a disaster with his printer and she had to help him fix it. Then she spent most the day distracted by the leak in her flat's bathroom. She was so busy that she didn't get back to her phone until the late evening, when she discovered a series of messages from Jaime from throughout the day, the last of which he had only sent ten minutes ago.

 _Jaime:_ Bri, can you call me? I need to explain.

 _Jaime:_ Brienne?

 _Jaime:_ I'm sorry about the message I sent you last night, but I need to tell you why I did it. Can you please call me?

 _Jaime:_ Actually, forget about it. Forget I ever said anything.

Brienne did, because it was the least painful thing to do.

After that, they rarely saw each other. When they were back in King's Landing for the holidays, Brienne always made sure she was distracted by a summer job or visits to family. On his part, Jaime brought home a string of blandly attractive girlfriends with nothing behind the eyes to impress his father. Perhaps Tywin thought one of them might be Mrs Jaime Lannister one day, although Brienne always found herself hoping he was wrong. Although her identity was shaped around her career aspirations and her perpetual singledom, it still hurt when she saw Jaime looking elsewhere.

It was in the looking and the looking away that Brienne found herself drifting apart from Jaime. During their second year of university, he messaged her less and less, until by the third year it was only on their respective birthdays and Christmas. She missed him, but she tried to fill the hole he had left in her life with her studies. In that endeavour, at least, she was somewhat successful, as she got a first class degree and a research job back in King's Landing. She moved into a lovely one bedroom flat right above Catelyn's, who found the whole prospect of them being so close terribly exciting.

"We need to have a housewarming. It will be a great idea!" chirped Catelyn, even though Brienne did not really agree. "Come on, it will be a great chance to invite our old friends and have a big reunion."

"As long as you do it at your flat," replied Brienne, knowing full well that she would want to escape as soon as possible. "I can't cope with the mess."

On the day of the party, her desire to flee became overwhelming the second Jaime walked through the door. Wearing a smart shirt and jeans, he looked so hot Brienne nearly fainted, so she went and hid in the toilet for a while to calm down.

 _Calm down, calm down,_ she told herself. _Just because he looks like a literal sex god, it doesn't mean you can't get control of yourself._

Luckily for Brienne, Jaime seemed to want to avoid her too, so they didn't even say two words to each other until Tyrion announced they should play a party game.

"I know we are all not silly teenagers anymore, but what about Spin the Bottle?"

Although Brienne complained, objected, and moaned, she soon found herself kneeling in a circle with everyone else as they began to play. Everyone seemingly found the whole thing uproariously funny - Ned and Catelyn had to kiss, then Margaery and Tyrion, then Loras and Renly, then Cersei and Robert - and she tried to laugh along with everyone else. It was easier than thinking of Jaime, who was sitting the other side of the circle, determinedly not looking at her.

"Right, Jaime, it's your turn," declared Cersei, shoving the bottle in front of him. "Spin that bottle!"

A blush came to Jaime's cheeks as he did what his sister ordered, which only darkened when everyone started making an ever increasing "ooooooo _oooooooOOOOOOOOHHHH!"_ sound. The bottle span around and around, seemingly taunting and teasing Brienne as it did so. She wanted it to land on anyone other than her, because then she would not have to face this tender pain that she had always carried around in her heart for him.

Unfortunately, the universe wasn't so kind, as when the bottle stopped it was pointing mockingly at her.

The whole room went quiet. Tyrion looked from Jaime to Brienne and back again, while Catelyn looked pale faced and tense. Brienne did not know what to do. She thought about telling him it was alright, that he didn't have to kiss her if he didn't want to, that she knew he had had lots of beautiful girlfriends and she could never compare, that she...

Then Jaime shuffled forward on his knees so that he was positioned right in front of her, his green eyes bright. All the feelings Brienne had for him seemed to surge within her like a lava flow, her cheeks flushing as she imagined kissing him.

"You have to kiss for five seconds," instructed Tyrion, as everybody else remained in their anticipatory silence. "You can go in three... two..."

Yet Jaime did not wait for Tyrion's countdown to end. Before Tyrion had got to the number one, Jaime's hand was on Brienne's cheek and the next thing she knew his lips were on hers; warm, soft, and electrifying. In gasping with surprise, Brienne's mouth dropped open, and suddenly his tongue had slipped between her teeth searching hers out. As this might be her only opportunity, Brienne sucked Jaime's tongue, which made him let out a little moan and lift his other hand to her hair. Longing to be closer, Brienne edged forward until she was basically straddling him, then wrapped her arms around him and held him tight.

Stars burst before her eyes and for a transient moment she believed.

"Ahem."

At Tyrion's interjection, Jaime broke the kiss and pulled away, leaving Brienne momentarily confused. It did not last for long, however, as Jaime locked his fingers with hers and gazed into her eyes. "Come with me, we need to talk."

Yet talking was not what they did when they reached Catelyn's spare bedroom. The second Jaime closed the door behind them he was on her again, kissing her and kissing her and kissing her like he was a God of Love and she was his acolyte, rewarded at last. They stumbled onto the bed, all limbs and lust, as Jaime skirted his hand up Brienne's shirt. She gasped when he cupped her breast.

"Are you okay with this?" Jaime asked, nuzzling her cheek as his thumb brushed against her puckered nipple.

Brienne tried to nod, but she felt the tears coming to her eyes. "You don't have to do this... not for me, not to make me feel better..."

"Feel better?" asked Jaime, staring at her incredulously. "Brienne, I've wanted you and me for years, ever since you pushed me in the pond when we went on that school trip as kids. God, I even drunkenly texted you the truth and then you ignored me and broke my heart into a million pieces in the process."

She furrowed her brows at him, baffled. "I thought you had meant to send that message to someone else!"

"Someone else? Why would I send that to someone else?"

Shame flooded her as she tried to find the words to explain. "Look at me Jaime... and look at you. How could you ever want me?"

"Easily," he said, brushing her hair out her face. "So easily, because I have never hated you for one single moment. I love you, Brienne."

"I love you too, Jaime," she admitted, some of the pain she had been carrying around for so long dissipating.

At that confession, he smiled in a way that made the whole world brighter. Then, he leant in and kissed her, and she tried to believe.


	52. Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An AU where Brienne is there during the Kingslaying...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I was taking a little hiatus to finish my exchange fic, but this little ficlet just came to me and I had to write it. I got a challenge from beesreadbooks on tumblr asking for 22nd May, which is hurt/comfort and a meet-cute. It is in the ballpark of that, so I hope you like it.
> 
> Warning: implication of suicide in this one.

Jaime's eyes rolled downwards toward the pool of blood circling Aerys Targaryen's head. Only in death was he an angel, his crown haloed with blood. The blood reaches out in fingered tendrils, crawling across the floor in slow paths, reaching for him. Jaime made a startled noise when it grasped at his Kingsguard cloak, turning the white material scarlet – blood on snow.

 _I murdered the king,_ he thought dumbly as he stared down at the broken corpse. _I murdered_ my _king._

There were reasons for it, of course. Aerys had threatened to burn the entirety of King's Landing to the ground along with everyone in it, due to his hate, spite, and a mad dream that he might be able to ascend from the flames - wings spread - as a dragon, smiting his enemies. Jaime knew all dreams came to an end, however. Just as Aerys' vision of himself as Balerion the Black Dread had proved a Will-O-The-Wisp, Jaime's own imaginings of himself as a brave knight admired for his deeds crumbled to dust.

 _I murdered the king,_ he thought again, this time with more venom. _I murdered_ my _king._

Knights who murdered their kings were the lowest of the low. Oath breaker. Traitor. Man without honour. There was no space in society for a man who had done something like that, no matter what his reasons. It would be the Wall or death, Jaime assumed. He doubted anyone would miss him. Maybe Cersei but, even then...

There was only one thing to do.

As he lifted his sword, it shone blue in the moonlight, as if it were on fire with some unearthly glow. Gazing down at it, Jaime briefly considered the best way to do it. Falling on one's sword would be hard, but it was only thing to be done to hold onto his last scrap of honour, to show the world that there was decency in him. He took a few steadying breaths. 

Seventeen was young, but it would have to be enough. Any more years would feel undeserved after what he had done.

Yet, before he could do what he had set out to do, he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was a rough, calloused hand that felt as if it belonged to a soldier who had long known war. Distracted from his goal, Jaime turned to look at the person behind him, and discovered he was looking at a Baratheon soldier and was instantly struck by the soldier's sapphire eyes when she took her helm off.

In spite of the fact she was brutish and ugly, she definitely was a her.

"What are you doing?" she asked, gazing at him with condemning eyes.

He swallowed, suddenly feeling somewhat reckless and impulsive as his blood-soaked sword glowed in the moonlight.

"The right thing," he said.

" _That_ is never the right thing," she said firmly but kindly, "never."

He wanted to gaze into her eyes forever - because they were blue and tranquil, the complete opposite to the fire and blood of the throne room - but Jaime could not help but look back at the king he was sworn to protect. The Mad King indeed, but he was Rhaegar's father and there had been plans afoot too... Jaime supposed none of that mattered now.

The woman extended her hand to him. "Come on... we must go, before someone finds you here."

He entwined their fingers without a second thought. "Who are you?"

"Brienne," she said. "My name is Brienne."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! As ever, I would love to know what you think in a comment or kudos!


	53. Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Sansa Stark goes to work for Jaime Lannister while disguised as a boy, unfortunate feelings arise...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... ahh! This is the first thing I've posted since the little hiatus I took to do my exchange fic (I can't wait to reveal it to you soon). However, I'm going to take a little bit of time to be firing on all cylinders once again, so I hope you like this first offering.
> 
> It was from Number 8 from my period drama prompts. goodqueenkaro requested "Could you write a short fic - subject number 8? Ruined young woman pretends to be a man. Pairing: Sansa Stark & Jaime Lannister, if you please :)"
> 
> I have never written Jaime/Sansa before, but I wanted to give it a go... and I PROMISE I tried. It just might have a slight JB angle to it.

It had been quite unnatural for Sansa Stark to cut her hair short and dress as a boy, but she had done it for her family. With a woollen cap pulled low over her face, casting her countenance in shadow, she believed that no one would see the pretty young woman hiding under the mask of a common prentice boy. In fact, she _hoped_ no one would see, because if they did, she would lose her job, her siblings would starve, and she would never forgive herself.

And yet she could not help but want for _him_ to know the truth of who she was. Jaime Lannister was the most handsome man she had ever seen - with corn gold hair and grass green eyes - and he had also given her a job as his valet when no one else would. Although he was a rich merchant in one of the most important cities in the Seven Kingdoms, Jaime spoke to her kindly and did not demean her, or laugh at her, or make her feel small. In fact, he treated her like a person with her own thoughts and feelings. It was therefore entirely unsurprising that she fell in love with him; deeply, madly, completely. Sansa had not had human kindness in such a long time that she gave her heart away as quickly as if it were something that did not matter to her. Jaime had invited her into his home and made her feel safe, so it was only natural she would tumble like a fallen star.

In the mornings - when he was looking all bright and handsome - she could hardly help but gaze at him.

"Sam, would you help me with my coat?" he asked, his voice as smooth as honey.

Sam was Sansa, so she nodded. "Yes sir." She tried not to stroke his shoulders as she brushed down his jacket.

"And my umbrella. Do you know where that is?"

"Just here sir. I'll get it for you."

Sansa as Sam walked over to the stand and retrieved the umbrella, before going to hand it to him. She smiled at him and could not help but drown in his eyes, endlessly beautiful and wondrous.

"Thank you, Sam," he said, warm as the spring sun.

Sansa as Sam had to suppress a shiver as he gave her a hearty pat on the shoulder. It was one of brotherly camaraderie, but Sansa treasured it all the same. "Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?"

"Yes," he said, looking down at his watch. "Would you get me some flowers?"

Sansa as Sam's expression turned quizzical. "Of course, ser."

She did not ask him what they were for, because she knew he would not give her a straight answer. Ever since working for Jaime, Sansa as Sam had noticed he was always buying small gifts - flowers, silks, expensive pens, knives, and even little ornamental keepsakes - but never seemed to give them to anyone. He especially asked for things to do with birds, so Jaime always sent Sansa as Sam to find feathered figurines. At first, Sansa as Sansa had worried that he was buying them for a lady friend, but then Sansa as Sam watched him pile them all up in front of the portrait of the ugly woman in his bedroom and never do anything with them. It reassured her somewhat - she wanted Jaime to treat _her_ like a lady to be loved, after all - but then remembered her name was Sam as she had cut her hair and bound her breasts.

 _My time will come,_ she told herself. _My time will come._

Remembering that courtesy was a lady's armour, Sansa as Sam went about being especially sweet and attentive to Jaime, hoping to charm him. She laid out his clothes in the morning, wrote his letters when he struggled due to his missing hand, and stoked the fire in his room before he went to sleep.

"You don't have to do this for me, Sam," he said sleepily as he laid back on his pillows, his sleep shift falling open and revealing a knot of golden chest hair.

"I do," replied Sansa as Sam - smiling at him prettily. "You don't have a wife to do it for you."

A regretful smile broke across his countenance. "I do have a wife, Sam. I do."

Sansa as Sansa found that statement strange as Jaime certainly did _not_ have a wife. He lived alone in his big house in King's Landing, working as a coal merchant for most of his days. As per his father's requests, he went out to parties and dances. Sometimes, he filled up his dance card with a great long list of ladies' names, but it never went anywhere. Instead, he would come home, and Sansa as Sam would stoke the fire and wish him goodnight.

"Goodnight, sir."

"Goodnight, Sam."

He would smile at her warmly and dismiss her from the room as he pulled the covers up around him. Sansa as Sam would obey, shutting the door behind her, while Sansa as Sansa's heart would remain in the room, longing for Jaime to turn around and look at her. He would tug off her cap, look into her eyes, and see her as a _lady._ Sweeping her off her feet, Jaime would carry Sansa as Sansa away from this sad, neglectful story to somewhere better. They would live in a new tale.

Resting her head against the door, Sansa as Sansa tried to get her breathing in check, even as her mind ran away with romantic fantasies. She failed. Overcome with emotion, she decided to go back in and tell him the truth; that Sam was Sansa, that she was a lady, and that she loved him with all her heart.

Then she heard his voice, as soft as a murmuration of birds.

"I danced with Margaery Tyrell this evening, my love, then Asha Greyjoy. Father wanted me to dance with more I'm sure, but I couldn't... you know I couldn't. It's only ever been you."

Sansa as Sam narrowed her eyes, confused.

"Goodnight, sweetling. I love you... wherever you are."

Sansa as Sansa stood on a knife edge, wondering what had just happened. Did he know that she was waiting on the other side of the door, longing for his love? Madness seizing her, Sansa pushed open the door, ready to throw herself into his arms.

"Jaime, I am here! I am here!"

However, to her horror, Sansa was not met by a look of pure, unadulterated joy from the man she loved. Instead, Jaime gazed up at her confusedly, while the portrait of the ugly woman stared down at her in almost judgemental disapproval.

"Sam," said Jaime surprisedly. "What are you still doing up?"

Remembering that courtesy was a lady's best armour, she smiled at him sweetly. "I am sorry, sir. I thought I heard voices."

"No," said Jaime, shaking his head as if he had no idea what she was talking about. His tone then turned accusatory. "There were no voices. You must have been dreaming. It is probably best you get to bed, boy. It is late."

"Of course, sir."

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Although she searched Jaime's face for any sign of the longing that she felt for him in her heart reflected back at her, Sansa as Sansa was to be disappointed. Jaime showed no such emotion. In fact, he only looked at her as the kindly boss who had taken in and fed her, not the hero of a story who would pull her into his arms and kissed her so passionately that they melted together and became one. Trying to shake the fantasy out of her head, Sansa left the room once more as the forgotten prentice boy Sam. She was determined to go back to bed and think of another way to woo Jaime the following day, but then she heard his voice once more and it made her even more confused.

"I'll find you, my love. If it is the last thing I do."

 _I am here,_ thought Sansa. _Just open the door and you can find me here. I could be your love._

_Waiting._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed that! Maybe Sansa will have a chance in the future... who knows!
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	54. 28th November: Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Days before her wedding day to Hyle, Jaime accompanies Brienne to the dress shop for the final fitting. However, feelings that have been kept secret for a long time make themselves known...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so this is another attempt to get out of my writing rut. This was a prompt from bananachef for the date meme. She asked for 28th November (pining/with confessions). I hope you enjoy this, attempting to write recently has been like getting blood out of a stone.

Brienne had talked down the wedding dress from the moment she bought it.

"I know you are meant to want to glide down the aisle in something extravagant on your wedding day, but I just didn't feel that was very _me,_ you know?"

"Hyle really wanted to go to Lys with the boys for his Stag Do, and I wanted him to have a good time, and therefore I couldn't say _no..._ so I agreed to cut the budget on the wedding dress... don't expect much."

"Sansa says it looks good, but Sansa says _everything_ I wear looks good and I know that is a lie... a well-intentioned lie, yes, but still a lie... so I am taking her opinion with a pinch of salt."

Every time Brienne did herself down, Jaime wanted to tell her that she would look beautiful in the dress because she would look beautiful in a bin bag, what with her powerful, muscular frame, her strong, _strong,_ arms, and her sexy beautiful eyes that simultaneously gave him a boner and made him want to write love sonnets.

He didn't say it, though, because that would be _weird._

Brienne was marrying Hyle and Jaime was nothing but her closest male friend, so Jaime would have to hold in all his feelings for the love of his life, even though it felt like he was going to explode with the pain and longing of it all. He would go to her hen party, and the dress fitting, and book her hairdresser and manicurist for the night before, then conclude the whole tragic affair by standing in the sept with a fake smile plastered on his face as Brienne - _his_ Brienne - married that worthless twat Hyle. It would hurt like fuck, but Jaime was determined to remain quiet because he loved Brienne, and he wanted her to be happy... even if what made her happy was not him.

"Brienne, are you going to ever come out of the changing room?" asked Margaery as she sat in the corner of the room, sipping her glass of champagne.

Brienne was getting married in a week and she had asked her three bridesmaids - Margaery, Sansa, and Arya - plus Jaime to come to the final dress fitting. Given that Brienne was both taller and broader than the average bride, she was having to have her shop bought dress tailored to her exact specifications by a seamstress. Consequently, Jaime found himself standing in the central area of the wedding shop changing room while Brienne tried on her dress, trying to pretend he was just as much one of the girls as Sansa or Margaery.

There was a sound of disquiet from the other side of the curtain.

"Are you alright in there, Brie?" asked Jaime nervously, as the bridesmaids tucked into their champagne. He tried not to roll his eyes. Surely Brienne's friends knew how sensitive she was about her looks, so would need their encouragement now more than ever?

 _Well, if they are not going to be there for her,_ thought Jaime. _I will be._

"Brie? Answer me."

Margaery made a tutting sound. "Jaime, leave her alone. She's probably just having a moment to compose herself."

"Like you should, best bud," added Arya with a teasing grin. "Stop fretting around her like a mother hen."

Jaime tried not to scowl at Sansa's sister but found it quite difficult. He had only met Arya for the first time at Margaery's birthday party a few weeks ago, but had instantly been put out by the fact she loudly referred to him as _the-one-who-is-painfully-in-love-with-Brienne_ when Brienne was in the next room and could have come charging back in at any given moment. After a few whispered questions, Jaime had discovered that it was by that moniker that all Sansa's extended family and friends knew him, even though he had never met any of them. When Jaime had gone to object, Brienne's friend Renly had given him a friendly pat on the shoulder.

"Oh, don't try and fight it, hon. We all know you are crazy about her. It's written all over your face every time she walks into the room."

As if to spite him, Brienne chose that exact moment to walk into the room, and Jaime found himself all sunny smiles and sparkling eyes. Arya had laughed into her drink.

Trying to ignore the knowing looks that the three bridesmaids were giving him, Jaime turned to the closed curtain and addressed Brienne again. "Hey, Brie. Are you going to come out and show us your dress?"

"In a moment," she replied timidly, accompanied by the sound of rustling silk. "I just... I just..."

"We are all waiting out here to tell you how beautiful you look."

She made a huffing sound. "Don't be silly, Jaime."

"I'm not being silly. That is all exactly what we are doing, isn't it?"

He turned around to Sansa, Margaery, and Arya for support, but found them all to concerned with their champagne to take notice. It took some dramatic gesticulating on his part to get them to respond.

"Oh yes," piped up Margaery. "You'll look stunning."

"Simply divine," added Sansa.

"We'll all be dazzled," concluded Arya.

"See," said Jaime, facing back towards the curtain to talk to Brienne once more. "We are all ready to tell you how awesome you look, so come and stun us all. I might faint from your sheer beauty."

Brienne made a derisive snort at that comment, but Jaime could tell he was winning her over, as there was another rustle of cloth that heralded movement. Stepping back, he was just far enough away by the time she pulled open the curtain to catch sight of the full vision that was Brienne in her wedding dress in one glance. It was a Grecian style dress, meaning it had a low v-neck and was ruched under the bust, but it also had some open sleeves that hung from Brienne's impressive shoulders, revealing her strong arms. To Jaime, she was an image of blue-eyed, freckled majesty that almost took his breath away. Lost in the sight of her, he found himself deeply regretting his youthful decision to end the three date _thing_ that the two of them had shared in college in order to return to Cersei. What might now be his present if he had taken a different path at that fork in the road, so many years ago?

"Wow," he said stupidly, lost for words.

Brienne rolled her eyes. "I don't know if it is _wow,_ it seems a little loose around the bust."

"Oh, we can pad it if that is a problem!" said Margaery suddenly, abandoning her champagne so she could charge forward and feel up Brienne's boobs. Jaime found himself instantly jealous. "The rest of the silhouette looks _gorgeous_ on you, so we can make that minor fix if the tailor does not have time to amend before the big day."

"What would we pad it with?" asked Brienne, as if she had never heard anything so ludicrous before.

Sansa supplied the answer to that question, although she kept hold of her champagne as she came charging over. "Some people like tissue, but we could try hunting round for a nice padded bra for you to wear."

"Yeah," said Arya as she came to join the group. "And Hyle will _love_ it when he takes off your dress on your wedding night to discover you are wearing sexy lingerie."

As Sansa and Margaery made noises of agreement, Jaime felt the bile rising in his throat at the thought of Hyle Hunt getting to take Brienne's beautiful dress off and make love to her on their wedding night, so knew he had to interject. "Or you could just not use padding at all. Some men like small tits. _Some_ men think your tits look great."

By _some men,_ Jaime of course meant himself. He had been really into her tits since that night in the hot tub at Tyrion's birthday party four years ago, where Brienne's tasteful one-suit had clung to her body and revealed the outline of her perky boobs that he'd been having fantasies about ever since. That night had also been the occasion when he realised that he had wasted half his life on Cersei, and really his heart had belonged to Brienne all along, he had just been too dense to see it.

It was a miracle what alcohol could reveal.

At Jaime's insistence that _some men_ liked Brienne's tits, Sansa elbowed him subtly but painfully in the ribs. She of course knew about Jaime's feelings for his best friend, but ever since Brienne had started going out with Hyle, Sansa had been imploring him to keep them on the downlow. It was to do with not ruining Brienne's chances, or something.

Brienne did not seem to see Sansa's gesture, however, and focussed on what Jaime had said. " _Some men_ like my boobs?" she snorted. "Like who?"

Although Jaime's tiny brain very much wanted to offer to suck her tits right here in the wedding dress shop if she so desired, his big brain knew he couldn't admit to that, so decided to deflect. "I'm sure there are guys out there who like your boobs and when it comes to small boobs, I like small boobs so there's one."

Brienne made a _tsk_ sound. "Oh come on Jaime. You spent ten years pining after Cersei and her perfectly spherical Double Ds. Don't give me some crap about liking a small chest, because I know it's not true."

"Brie, I--"

"What Jaime means to say," said Margaery, cutting across the both of them in order to avoid a row about Cersei and her boobs, "is that you shouldn't feel pressured to fill out the dress if you don't want to. Hyle knows and surely appreciates your boobs. He shouldn't be expecting anything else."

Knowing the best thing to do was to now shut up, Jaime stepped back and allowed Margaery, Sansa, and Arya to step in, using their best _ooohs_ and _aaahs_ to persuade Brienne she looked beautiful.

"Honestly babe, it's stunning," declared Margaery. "Could it use some tightening up around the bust? Yes, probably, but we've not got long before your wedding so the seamstress might not be able to do it in time. I would advise you to wear as is and maybe just sneakily put on a padded bra to give you a bit more shape."

Brienne did not look convinced. "But if it not a good fit should I really be settling for it?"

 _You should apply that question to Hyle,_ thought Jaime darkly.

"If you are running out of time, needs must," said Arya sagely.

Although her three friends seemed to be in agreement, Brienne was still sceptical, so she turned to Jaime for answers.

"Jaime. Does this look alright? Do you think I can get away with wearing it on my wedding day?"

"Of course you can," he said, wanting to reassure her.

 _You look beautiful,_ he thought. _You've always been beautiful to me._

* * *

After they had all drunk more champagne than strictly necessary and watched Brienne try on her veil, the soon-to-be bride decided she had had enough of wedding dresses and needed a drink.

"I'll think on what to do about the dress and text the seamstress tomorrow but first... alcohol."

Unsurprisingly, they chose the _Crafty Half_ over by Aegon's High Hill, which was owned by Tyrion's mate Bronn. After Margaery ordered a massive plate of shots - which was only just about socially acceptable since it had turned seven - they went and sat at a table and began to down them. Being the lightweight that he was, it was not long before Jaime felt a little tipsy.

"TO BRIENNE AND HYLE!" chorused Margaery for the seven-hundredth time that evening, putting her very expensive handbag on the table as she downed yet another shot.

Arya copied her by taking another. "Yeah, to Brienne and Hyle! May he be a brilliant husband who makes all your dreams come true."

"Oh," said Brienne before taking a swig of her own drink, "I don't know about that. I just ask that he be a tolerable husband. I won't ask for any more than that."

"Why not?" asked Sansa, furrowing her brow. "Don't you want to be happy?"

"Sure, but I don't think I will be happy by wishing for Hyle to be something that he is not."

Although Margaery, Sansa, and Arya seemed content with that answer, Jaime certainly was not, so he took another swig of alcohol for confidence before shooting his shot. "What do you mean something he's not?"

Unnerved, Brienne shot a glance at Sansa, who took her friend's hand. "You don't have to tell him, Brie, not if you don't want to."

"Don't have to tell me what?" asked Jaime suspiciously, locking his eyes onto Brienne.

She blushed under his gaze, but for once he did not find it endearing, but infuriating. "It's nothing."

"Oh yes, it is," replied Jaime, not taking no for an answer. "What is it? You know I won't rest until I find out."

Brienne sighed. "Okay, but just promise if I tell you that you won't lose your mind."

"I promise you I won't lose my mind," said Jaime. "Pinky swear. Now tell me what Sansa thinks you should keep a secret."

Exhaling slowly, Brienne shot one more glance at Sansa before admitting the truth. Evidently, she needed her friend's support in order to unburden herself. "When he went to Lys for his Stag Do last month, Hyle slept with an exotic dancer."

Jaime nearly crushed the shot glass in his hand with the extent of his rage.

"He _what_?"

"He slept with an exotic dancer."

"You mean a stripper?" goggled Jaime, horrified that Brienne was even considering going through with the wedding in light of what Hyle had done.

At Jaime's exclamation, Brienne looked very embarrassed, but it soon became apparent that it was not for herself and her own stupid decisions, but for Hyle. "We've talked it through, and he promised he won't do it again. He told me that he was drunk, and that he..."

"WHAT IN ALL FUCKING SEVEN HELLS BRIENNE!" cried Jaime suddenly, which caused a man sitting at the next booth to shoot him a confused look. "Are you seriously going to defend him?"

"It was one time," she countered, "and he's promised that he'll put in the work once we are married to ensure..."

Completely gobsmacked that Brienne - his feisty, forthright Brienne - was taking this insult from her complete asshat of a boyfriend was too much for Jaime. She had been the one who had spent years subtly suggesting that maybe perhaps Cersei was not the one for him because she couldn't keep her legs closed when he went out of town, after all. It seemed about the right time to repay the favour.

"For fuck's sake, Brie! Grow a spine! Dump his arse!" Jaime cried, before taking another shot. "And then let me go around his house and beat the shit out of him. It's what he deserves."

Clearly unnerved by that suggestion, Brienne tried to keep a level tone. "Will you stop with the threats and calm down? You made a pinky swear that you wouldn't lose your shit!"

"Oh, give me a break," Jaime growled, before drinking two shots in a row in an attempt to quell the desire to go and hunt down Hyle Hunt and disembowel him with the mini umbrella in Sansa's garish cocktail. "I'm not going to keep to the pinky swear when Hyle is a selfish shit who only cares about himself. He wasn't there for you when you thought you were going to be kicked out of your apartment, _I was,_ and neither did he bother to turn up and sit with you when your dad had his operation, _I did._ And now you are telling me he shagged a stripper on his stag do? Give. Me. A. Break."

Taken aback by his stringent tone, Brienne blinked at him blankly. "Jaime, what is your problem?" she said, her big blue eyes full of incomprehension.

Although he usually found her naivety endearing and sweet, in that moment it enraged Jaime beyond all sense. How could she be so blind to what he felt? How could she expect him to stand by her side, smiling and pretending to be happy for her, when really, he wanted to punch a wall or cry until he had no more tears inside him? Why was she being so cruel?

"YOU ARE MY PROBLEM, BRIENNE!" he thundered. " _YOU!_ "

She looked at him confusedly. "Me? What have I done?"

Even though Jaime now had an audience - the patrons of the bar who were sitting on the tables closest to them were now watching him as avidly as if he were a freak at a side show - he could barely bring himself to care. The shots were swirling round his system at a rate of knots, and Brienne was acting as if she didn't know what was happening. Jaime thought it was _obvious_ what was going on, so believed it was only right to tell her.

"YOU ARE GETTING MARRIED IN LESS THAN A WEEK, AND YOU ARE SITTING HERE DRINKING SHOTS WHILE TRYING TO EXPLAIN TO ME THAT HYLE _ISN'T_ AN ASS OF THE HIGHEST ORDER. I'M TELLING YOU NOW, BRIE, YOU ARE _NEVER_ GOING TO CONVINCE ME HYLE ISN'T AN ASS BECAUSE GUESS WHAT? _HE IS AN ASS!"_

At his bellowing, Brienne blushed profusely, while looking around nervously at the other patrons of the bar. "Jaime, why are you shouting? People are watching."

"DO YOU KNOW WHAT?" he shouted, dismissively gesturing towards the goggle-eyed observers. "I DON'T CARE, BECAUSE MAYBE THIS IS WHAT IT WILL TAKE FOR YOU TO GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR ARSE AND UNDERSTAND WHAT IS GOING ON HERE."

"What is going on here, Jaime?" she spluttered. Sansa reached up to grasp Brienne's wrist, trying to pull her back, but Brienne shook her off. "No, Sansa. I want to know. What does Jaime think is going on here?"

Jaime pinched the bridge of his nose, the words he so desperately wanted to say trying to break out of his chest. He took some steadying breaths, knowing it was a terrible idea to spill his heart out to her in a crowded bar a few days before her wedding, but nevertheless felt as if he had to come back with something.

Trying to speak calmly, Jaime folded his arms across his chest. "It is obvious to anyone with half a brain cell that you shouldn't be marrying Hyle."

Brienne's blue eyes went so wide that for a moment Jaime wondered whether he could dive in and drown in them.

"Is it obvious? Because as far as I can see, Hyle and I are perfect for each other!"

Jaime made a disgusted sound at the back of his throat. "Are you serious? Hyle isn't even fit to lick your boots! Mouldy bread has a more exciting personality than him, and he isn't exactly anything special to look at. I could perhaps forgive him these faults if he treated you with a modicum of the respect and affection you deserve, but he doesn't. Seven Hells, he fucked a stripper during his Stag Party, Brienne and you are just set to move on as if nothing happened!"

Now that this had become a personal attack on her decisions, Brienne puffed herself up, growing as angry as a bull before a matador with a red cape. She had always had a taste for defending the weak and friendless, and seemed to include Hyle amongst their number.

"Hyle loves me," Brienne began, gathering together a defence that was emotional but also riddled with holes. "I know he does..."

"How?" snapped Jaime.

"Because he bought me that replica of Oathkeeper for my birthday," she said, as if that proved everything. "Only someone who really loved and cared for me would buy me something so special."

Although he had been sworn to secrecy, with the alcohol swirling round his system, all Jaime's inhibitions fell away. "Hyle only bought that for you because _I_ told him that Oathkeeper is what you would want. He was thinking of buying you a toastie maker."

Brienne's expression fell. "He what?"

"You heard me," replied Jaime, on edge. "He was going to buy you a toastie maker, but I persuaded him not to, and even went and met the blacksmith and ordered the damn thing because I knew how much it meant to you. I agreed to keep it a secret because I wanted you to feel loved by your boyfriend for once, but secretly I was desperate to throttle him because a toastie maker was the best gift he could come up with. Insensitive bastard."

It took Brienne a few seconds to process that revelation, and Jaime watched as it sank below her skin, giving her relationship with Hyle a new colour and meaning. As she did not say anything, a spike of something - perhaps the alcohol - momentarily convinced Jaime that he might have hope. Consequently, he decided to open his big mouth.

"It's why he doesn't deserve you, Brie, and why you shouldn't marry him."

Sansa, Margaery, and Arya gasped in unison, while Brienne put her empty shot glass down on the table, a storm growing in her eyes. "What did you just say?"

Any other time, Jaime might have brushed his slip of the tongue aside as a joke, but now he was hyped up on spirits and did not see any reason to back down.

"You heard me," he said, before picking up another multicoloured shot and downing it. "You shouldn't marry Hyle. He's a twat, and you deserve better."

It only dawned on Jaime that he might have said something truly upsetting when Sansa and Arya shot each other a look, and Margaery put a hand on Brienne's wrist in an attempt to stop her glowering at him.

"Brie, Jaime's drunk. He's had too many shots. Don't take what he has said to heart."

"Not _that_ drunk," Brienne replied, her eviscerating eyes still locked on him. "He meant what he said. Why did you say it, Jaime?"

Although he felt slightly judged by the four women at the table, Jaime at least believed he was justified in what he was saying, so tried to push ahead. "Because it's true. You do deserve better than someone who cheats on you and makes you feel small. You deserve the best, Brienne. You deserve..."

Jaime was expecting Brienne to defend Hyle once more, so was therefore surprised when she rolled her eyes. "Oh gods Jaime, no I don't. I don't deserve better than Hyle."

At that admission, it looked as if Arya was going to pipe up, but Jaime cut across her, horrified at what Brienne had just said.

"Yes you do. You deserve a guy who loves you without limit. Why do you say differently?"

Her answer came quick as a whip and hurt just as much as a lash. "Because I'm not attractive, Jaime. In fact, I'm quite ugly."

"No you're not--"

"Yes I am," she said firmly, stalling his every attempt at rebuffing her. "And to be honest, men care about my ugly face and not much else. Hyle at least seems to tolerate the way I look, because we both come from the Stormlands and have things in common. We both like sports. I'm not foolish enough to think I can hope for anything more, so give me one reason I shouldn't marry Hyle, some reason that is not some crap about him not deserving me." A few minutes ago, it would have been too noisy in the bar to hear her because Brienne spoke quietly in her truth-telling, but now the music had been lowered and everyone around them had stopped chatting in order to stare at this drama unfolding in front of them. "I bet you can't, because there _are_ no reasons you could give me. I'm a normal person, and so is he."

"Yes there are reasons. Plenty of reasons!" he snarked, getting to his feet in order to tower over her. She responded by standing up too, using her height as an advantage.

"Like what?"

 _Don't say it,_ he thought.

"You know, plenty."

Brienne snorted. "Name _one_ of these plenty of reasons," she said, her voice rising. "Come on, just one Jaime. We've been friends long enough."

That word - _friends_ \- stung. In that moment, Jaime did not feel as if Brienne was being very friendly towards him.

"Friends, huh?" he said sarcastically.

She looked momentarily hurt at his scepticism, but eventually managed to push forward. "Yes. _Friends._ We are friends, Jaime, and friends tell each other the truth; the truth like why you believe I shouldn't marry Hyle."

He was so close to cracking, so close to breaking, that Jaime tried to wave her question away. "Oh gods, give it up Brienne. There are plenty of reasons you shouldn't marry that jackass, and if you can't see it that is on _you_ not me."

"Oh no, that's on _you_ for not explaining yourself... on _you_ for causing this whole fight and not telling me why."

"We're not _fighting,"_ he insisted scornfully.

"Then what are we doing?" she replied, throwing her arms up in the air in annoyance. "Why are you in such a weird mood? And why are you shouting at me in the middle of a bar?"

"I'M NOT SHOUTING!"

"YES YOU ARE!"

"WELL, THAT IS BECAUSE YOU ARE BEING RIDICULOUS!"

Brienne let out an irritated little scream. "I'M BEING RIDICULOUS? YOU ARE THE ONE WHO CAN'T GIVE ME A STRAIGHT REASON FOR WHY I SHOULDN'T MARRY HYLE! JUST TELL ME ONE DAMN REASON!"

It was too much for Jaime. Brienne was gazing at him with those pretty cow eyes of hers, in an absolutely indignant shade of forget-me-not blue, and he could not keep it back anymore. With the shots and the fact Hyle had treated her so poorly, Jaime felt his anger overwhelm him, mixing with his long-hidden passion for his best friend to create a concoction so potent that it exploded in a fit of word vomit, like the eruption of a volcano.

"YOU SHOULDN'T MARRY HYLE BECAUSE IF YOU ARE GOING TO GET MARRIED TO ANYBODY, IT SHOULD BE TO ME, BECAUSE WE ARE PERFECT FOR EACH OTHER AND I LOVE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH IT HURTS, BUT I SOMETIMES THINK YOU DON'T KNOW HOW MUCH I ADORE YOU."

It seemed as if everyone in the bar had frozen. Sansa and Margaery's mouths dropped open, the bartender set a glass down on the bar so he could stare at the unfolding scene with interest, and the woman at the next table let out a gasp. Yet Jaime could not bring himself to care, because alcohol was burning through his veins and Brienne was gazing at him so intently that for a moment, he felt that anything was possible. Realising that this moment was entirely his own, Jaime did not even attempt to stop himself when his feelings came tumbling out of his mouth.

"WATCHING YOU WALK DOWN THE AISLE AND MARRY SOMEONE ELSE WILL KILL ME, BRIE. IT WILL FUCKING RIP MY HEART OUT OF MY CHEST, BECAUSE I LOVE YOU WITH EVERYTHING I HAVE. IT IS YOU I WANT TO BE WITH TO CELEBRATE SOMETHING GREAT HAPPENING TO ME, AND YOU WHO IS THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN COMFORT ME WHEN I AM SAD. I WANTED TO KISS YOU WHEN YOU GOT A DISTINCTION ON YOUR MASTERS, AND HUG YOU AND TELL YOU THAT EVERYTHING IS GOING TO BE OKAY WHEN YOUR BOSS WAS BEING A DICK TO YOU LAST MONTH. AND THAT IS BECAUSE _I LOVE YOU_ , AND YOU ARE _THE ONE_ FOR ME, BRIENNE. THAT'S WHY I HAVEN'T BEEN DATING RECENTLY, BECAUSE I KNOW ANY OTHER GIRL COULD NEVER HOLD A CANDLE TO YOU IN MY EYES. YOU ARE THE LIGHT OF MY FUCKING LIFE. YOU MAKE ME BELIEVE THAT IT IS POSSIBLE FOR ME TO BE HAPPY, THAT SOMEONE COULD SEE PAST ALL MY SHIT AND ACTUALLY CARE FOR WHO I AM INSIDE, AND I WILL LOVE YOU UNTIL THE DAY I DIE AND EVEN BEYOND THAT FOR ALL THE COMPASSION YOU HAVE SHOWN ME. AND I LOVE YOU SO MUCH THAT I WILL WATCH YOU MARRY SOMEONE ELSE - EVEN AS IT BREAKS MY HEART - IF THAT GUY TREATS YOU LIKE THE GODDESS YOU ARE AND DOES EVERYTHING IN HIS POWER TO MAKE EVERY DAY OF YOUR LIFE UTTERLY JOYFUL. HYLE WON'T DO THAT. SEVEN HELLS, HE FUCKED A STRIPPER ON HIS STAG DO. _AN ACTUAL STRIPPER!_ SO WHEN I SAY HYLE DOESN'T DESERVE YOU, I'M SPEAKING THE TRUTH, BECAUSE YOU DESERVE TO BE LOVED AND TRUSTED AND RESPECTED BY THE MAN YOU MARRY, BRIE, JUST IN THE WAY I FEEL FOR YOU... IN THE WAY I... the way I... the way..."

Jaime trailed off, consumed by the intensity of her blue eyes. As the adrenaline dulled, he suddenly realised what he had just done. Everyone in the bar was staring at him, most of all Brienne, who was gazing at him as if he had just picked up their years of trust and friendship and thrown it on the floor, smashing it into pieces. Yet she found the courage to break the tension. The whole room seemed to take a collective breath as Brienne stepped forward, her expression impassive. It took her a few moments to speak, but when she did her voice was tremulous.

"You... you... you... love me?"

The emotion in her eyes burnt so brightly, but Jaime could not tell what it was. Fear? Anger? Excitement? Betrayal? Looking for answers, he stole a glance at Margaery, Sansa, and Arya, who had all gone pale like ghosts. It was the only response he needed, especially given that the alcohol burning through his system was now no longer providing him with courage but nausea.

Word vomit turned into actual vomit.

Grabbing the nearest thing to him - which turned out to be Margaery's very expensive handbag - Jaime opened it up and puked inside, throwing up both his lunch and his feelings. His stomach retched violently in wave after wave, and he coughed aggressively due to the burning in his throat caused by regurgitated shots. Once he was sure he was done, he closed Margaery's handbag and put it back on the table in front of her. She did not look very impressed. He could hardly bring himself to care, however, as Brienne was still staring at him with the force of a powerful goddess. She glared at him, clearly expecting an answer to her stammered question, but suddenly Jaime felt as if he did not have the words.

 _Oh gods I've ruined everything,_ he thought. _Everything. She's not even going to want to be my friend anymore, let alone my lover. What have I done?_

"I've got to go," he stuttered, his legs carrying him away before he had given her an answer. "Call me tomorrow if you need anything for the wedding. If you want..."

"Jaime!" she said, her voice cracking on the word.

_Oh gods, what have I done?_

"I've got to go," Jaime muttered again. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Although Brienne's gaze was bright, blue, and endless, Jaime turned away and ran out of the bar as quickly as he could. Everything was over between them, he knew. He at least wanted the space to grieve for the most important relationship in his life in peace, and that meant being alone.

Possibly forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I would love to hear what you think in a comment or kudos.
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	55. Late Nights and Lamentations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the night before, Student Brienne has to deal with her feelings towards Professor Jaime...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm sorry this has been so long. I had a bit of a hiatus, but now I'm back! I know lots of people were keen on the Professor Jaime/Student Brienne AU, so here is another instalment. I hope you enjoy.
> 
> The prompt for this chapter came from anonymous, who said, "Thanks for Part 2 but now I need more Prof Lannister/student Brienne verse!!!!"

The morning after the party, Brienne woke up on her bed still dressed as the Phantom of the Opera, feeling really groggy. Although she had not drunk much, she was an incurable lightweight so had a headache and felt a bit queasy. It quickly became apparent that she had not suffered as much as her housemates, however. When she ventured out into the rest of the flat, she found Loras lying on the sofa in the lounge, dead to the world and still in his dress. Renly and Margaery were in the kitchen. He was sitting rather morosely at the table, drinking a coffee, while Margaery was pouring herself a bowl of cereal.

"Morning Opera Ghost," croaked Renly, before taking another sip of coffee.

"Morning," replied Brienne as she crossed to the bread bin to make herself some toast. "Has anyone actually checked if Loras is alive?"

Margaery nodded. "Yeah. I poked him earlier and he made an _urrggghh_ sound, so I assume he is still with us."

Brienne nodded as she retrieved her bread and popped it in the toaster. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Renly and Margaery exchange a surreptitious glance. It instantly made Brienne suspicious.

"What are you two smirking about?" she asked, looking from Margaery to Renly and back again.

"Did you hang around with Professor Dreamboat last night?" asked Renly, in something approaching a casual tone.

Even though she attempted to feign ignorance, Brienne's blush gave her away. "I don't know who you mean..."

"Don't play stupid," said Renly. "I'm talking about that sexy biology professor who came to the party and who looked _delectable_ without his shirt on."

Not wanting to talk about it, Brienne made a snorting sound in an attempt to ward them off. "Oh, do you mean Professor Lannister? Because he's not that hot."

"You know full well who I mean," smirked Renly, as Margaery came to sit by his side. "And you know full well how hot he is."

Brienne tried not to look at her honey-haired, beautiful friend as Renly laughed, because she did not want to hurt her. Margaery fancied Jai - _Professor Lannister_ \- and, unlike Brienne, actually had a chance with him. Hells, she had even brought Jaime to the party as a _date_ last night, which was more than Brienne could say. Why wasn't Renly smirking at Margaery? She decided to tell him so.

"It was Margaery who brought him as a date last night. I'm just a disinterested third party. Maybe you should be asking her."

Margaery gave a shrug of the shoulders as she sat down at the table with her cereal, tucking in straight away. "Oh, Jaime and I decided it wasn't a date after all," she said through a mouth full of cornflakes.

Brienne's ears pricked up at once. "You did? Why?"

"He told me something interesting," replied Margaery, with a smirk that was reminiscent of Renly's.

"What?" asked Brienne, feeling far too invested in the answer to truly be a disinterested third party. "What did he say?"

"He told me that he only came to the party because he likes you and wants to spend time with you, Brienne."

Brienne nearly dropped her toast in shock.

"What?"

"You heard me," replied Margaery, her smile growing. "Jaime likes you and wants to turn your late night library sessions into something a little more... official."

Trying to hide her flabbergasted blush, Brienne bent down to pick up her toast. By the time she was back up at her full height, both Margaery and Renly were grinning at her like a bunch of naughty children.

"You are joking," she declared confidently once she saw their expressions. This was all part of some elaborate practical joke that Margaery and Renly had cooked up because... because... well, she didn't really know why, but the alternative was too unbelievable to contemplate.

"No, I'm not," said Margaery, swirling her spoon around in a bowl like a witch concocting a potion. "Jaime actually asked me to help find some way to impress you, because nothing he is doing seems to be working."

As Brienne put her toast back on her plate, her tongue felt so thick she could barely speak. She had never had a conversation like this in the whole of her life. When she was little and had gone to sleepovers, it was the other girls - _pretty_ girls - who had been the centre of the fleeting childish love stories. And then, once she was older, Brienne had become the shoulder to cry on; the big, hulking steady rock who other women went to sob about their boyfriends to. Brienne never had problems with men, because who would want Brienne? She was therefore the silent receptacle of other people's trauma and pain, without ever experiencing her own romantic joys. 

Although it came unnaturally to her, Brienne tried a dismissive laugh designed to wound. "How much did you drink last night, Margaery? Because you seem to have lost your mind."

"I've not lost my mind, I've..."

"Yes you have," replied Brienne, convinced that her friend must have it all wrong. "Because the idea that Jaime Lannister told you that he was into me and wanted your help to woo me is the most ridiculous, unbelievable thing I have ever heard in my life. In case you haven't noticed, he is gorgeous while I look like some creature from the deep."

Renly made a disgusted noise at the back of his throat. "Don't say that about yourself..."

"Why not? It is true!" shot back Brienne, feeling her anger rise. "Margaery was obviously drunk or high last night and didn't understand what Jaime was saying. He was probably trying to say that he was trying to work out how to woo her, or even his ex, Cersei. Maybe he's over fighting with her and wants to get back together. She is really beautiful, after all."

Margaery rolled her eyes. "Brienne, I was not drunk or high last night. I know what Jaime said, and it was that he is into you and has been trying to get your attention. The longer you deny it, the more you are just going to convince him that you are not interested."

"Maybe I'm not interested!" thundered Brienne, going red even as she said it. "Maybe I don't care about pretty boy professors who come to parties as the date of my best friend to try and get a rise out of me. Maybe I don't think he's that hot! Maybe I don't want him! Maybe I..."

"I think the lady protests too much," interrupted Renly, smirking at Margaery.

"And maybe the two of you are just trying to make fun of me!" she concluded, fed up with this whole conversation.

Margaery gazed at her imploringly. "Brienne, we're not..."

"Yes you are!" she said, a little too loudly for the morning after the night before. As Renly and Margaery both flinched, Brienne picked up the butter and knife and strode across the room. "You know what? I've had enough of this conversation. If either of you have anything sensible to say to me, I will be in my room."

"Brienne..."

Grabbing her toast, she made sure she was out of the room before either Renly or Margaery could object.

* * *

Although the slight disagreement in the kitchen was eventually solved with a round of apologies and a promise from Renly and Margaery to never mention their stupid Jaime Lannister conspiracy theories again, other issues were not so easily solvable. The most prominent of these issues was how Brienne would ever face Jaime again after their moment on the balcony at the party, especially since Renly and Margaery had sullied their entire relationship with unsubstantiated rumour.

If she had been any other girl, Brienne might have found a way to act naturally around him. However, she was awkward, socially anxious Brienne Tarth, so now she wanted nothing more than to run away from him and preferably never speak to him again.

That meant changing her position in the library during the late library sessions.

Without making a big fuss about it, Brienne stopped sitting in her favourite seat in the history section and moved to the quantum physics section in the basement. There was no air and poor lighting down there, and every time Brienne wanted a book pertinent to her thesis she had to climb four sets of stairs, but at least there was no chance that Jai - _Professor Lannister_ \- would accidentally stumble upon her while looking for a book.

That arrangement worked well for a few uncomfortable days until, one evening, Brienne got a surprising text message.

_Loras:_ Hey B, I might come and sit in the library with you, if that is okay?

Brienne sighed. She was reaching an important junction in her thesis and didn't really want distractions right now, especially from the one flatmate who wasn't even a student so had no reason to be in the library. He would probably try to talk to her.

_Brienne:_ Why do you want to sit in the library? You haven't even got any work to do?

_Loras:_ 🤷♂ Margaery and Renly are singing karaoke and it is making my ears bleed. Surely you will take pity on a friend in need?

Just about resisting banging her head on the table, Brienne suppressed the urge to loudly proclaim her need for peace and solitude and messaged him back.

_Brienne:_ Fine. You can come sit with me.

_Loras:_ Yay! Whereabouts are you sitting? I need the floor, the aisle, and the seat number.

Having not expected Loras to go all Inquisition on her, Brienne rolled her eyes. He was normally so much more casual than this.

_Brienne:_ We don't have seat numbers, but I am down in the basement next to the section to do with black holes. See you soon.

Planning on having at least half an hour before Loras arrived - it would take him at least that long to extract himself from Margaery and Renly's karaoke session - Brienne settled down into her work. She had lots to research on ancient female warriors, and was thinking on doing a section on women of the North who had...

Less than two minutes after she had messaged Loras, the door of the basement swung upon to reveal the last person in the entire world that she wanted to see. Jai - _Professor Lannister_ \- came bowling into the room looking bright as the sun, an excited grin on his face.

"Brienne," he smiled, as he came to sit next to her. "There you are."

He said it as if he had been looking for her and as if he was excited to find her. Brienne had to use all her self-control to stop a scowl stretching across her face. After the discussion with Renly and Margaery, the fact that Jaime had intruded into her sanctuary with his handsome countenance and sly smile when she was trying to avoid him felt strangely cruel.

"Hello," she said stiffly, staring down at her book. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be up in your normal seat?"

Smiling, Jaime put his hand down on the table, meaning his arm was perfectly aligned alongside hers. She had to suppress a shiver as they touched. "I just had a feeling you might be down here, and I wanted to see you."

"Why?"

"I missed you," he said, inching closer. "How do you expect me to work without my study buddy?"

She raised an eyebrow at him sceptically. "You are quite a renowned scholar, Professor Lannister. I doubt my presence helps anything. You achieved lots before you even met me."

"Oh, I promise it does improve things," Jaime said, refusing to move. "You are calming, and kind, and I love spending time with you. Being here in the library with you is the highlight of my week."

Brienne furrowed her brow. "I am sure you are exaggerating things..."

"I'm not," Jaime replied swiftly. "Most of my life is warring with Cersei over the house, so spending time with you reminds me that I can have good things happen to me too."

At the mention of Jaime's beautiful ex, Brienne looked back at her book, blushing profusely. It wasn't that she saw Cersei as competition, just that it was yet another reminder of how hopeless her cause was. She did look like a fricking model, after all.

"You were married to her for a long time though, weren't you? Surely you can't hate her that much."

Jaime's smile dimmed slightly. "I don't hate her, it's just... I'm so tired. I just want half of our assets, and I won't get that easily if Cersei refuses to enter into dialogue over our house. And even though she doesn't give a damn for our dogs, she is refusing to let me have them just because she wants to spite me. So I stay in the house because, if I don't, I'm indicating to the lawyers that I don't care. And I _do_ care, it's just... it is hell living with her, she makes my life a living hell... and you are my only respite."

As Jaime made his admission, he nudged Brienne's shoulder and forced her to look at him. When green met blue, she felt as if she had been hit by a bolt of lightning, because the depths of his gaze was so intense it almost took her breath away. Things only got worse when he reached out and took her hand, wasting no time in intertwining their fingers. For a moment, it seemed as if Jaime was leaning closer towards her, and Brienne's mind flashed with memories; their secret meetings in the library, their moment on the balcony at the party, and the conversation she had had with Margaery and Renly. Scared, panicking, and not sure what to do, Brienne pulled back and removed her hand from his, trying not to notice the way his smile faltered in the process.

"I'm sorry everything is so hard," she said, picking up her pen to stop him taking her hand again, "and that you can find some peace here in the library."

"With you," he added firmly.

She nodded. That was the only concession she would give him.

After that awkward encounter, Brienne found the only way to fend off whatever this conversation was about, was to focus on her work and try to concentrate on her thesis. It was a little difficult, as Jaime refused to move from her side, but he eventually started to do his own work. One or two times he interrupted her to ask mundane questions or tell her she had a bit of lint on her shoulder and brush it off for her. Once, he silently reached into his bag and produced a chocolate bar - her favourite chocolate bar - which he deposited onto her book to get her attention. When Brienne gazed at him confusedly, Jaime just winked at her, then went back to his work. Every time she took a bite of the chocolate, Jaime smiled as if he had won something.

Apart from that one strange interruption, Brienne managed to keep him at bay until around midnight, when she decided that she was getting tired and needed to go home. Standing up, Brienne began to gather her things together, only to discover Jaime looking up at her slightly disappointedly.

"Are you leaving?"

"Yeah," she replied. "I'm getting sleepy."

"Aww, poor Brienne. Do you want me to walk you home?"

Brienne stopped packing up her things to gaze at him confusedly. Men never offered to walk her anywhere, because she was a big, beefy woman who looked as if she did not need guarding while walking through the seedy part of town at night. Therefore, she was slightly disquieted by the offer, and shook her head.

"No, I'm fine. There's a late night bus and, anyway, you live in the opposite direction."

"I still wouldn't mind... if you wanted me to."

She shook her head. "No, don't worry. It is fine. I can look after myself."

Brienne then returned to putting away her things in complete silence. Seemingly at a loss for what to do, Jaime got up and started copying her, putting away his few things as he continued to watch her.

"Brienne."

"Mmm?"

"What are you doing this weekend?"

She snapped her head up to look at him. "What do you mean?"

He gave her an easy smile. "I mean, what are you doing this weekend?"

At his question, a nervous feeling started pooling in the pit of her stomach. Excitement was an emotion Brienne distrusted, so anxiousness was the only response to this hinted opportunity now laid out before her. Any other reaction would leave her unprepared.

"Why?"

He took a deep breath. "I was just wondering what you were doing, that's all. The art house cinema over on Visenya's Hill is playing _The Sand Snakes_ , and I just wondered if you wanted to go with me? We could go out for dinner first - I know this _amazing_ Pentoshi place that does sharing platters that are to die for - and I would love to take you out. Just the two of us. What do you think?"

Although his question was the most ludicrous, out of place, ridiculous, unbelievable thing Brienne had ever heard in her life - was _he_ really asking _her_ out? - she found that his eyes were filled with such sincerity that it couldn't be a joke. Jaime wasn't like Connington or Hyle or all those other boys who had laughed at her and made her feel small. He was a man, and seemingly a man who knew what he wanted.

It terrified her to her core.

She agreed to go on a date with him, and then what? Would they go to some pretentious restaurant that he could afford and she couldn't, while she listened to him moan about his ex-wife, and then let him pay the entire bill as if he owned her? If yes, afterwards, Brienne would feel pressured to go back to his and let it move more quickly than what she was happy with, because he was beautiful and she was not, and it would feel like he was doing her a favour. Then, after he had taken her virginity, he would kick her out, tell her she was just a rebound and that he didn't want to see her anymore. She would feel like she was being used, would hate herself for her stupidity, and for the fact she dared to want him in the first place.

_No,_ Brienne thought. _I have more dignity than that._

"I can't make this weekend," she lied, embellishing the truth somewhat. "My dad's in town and I am going to take him out for dinner."

"Well what about the following week?"

Brienne chewed her bottom lip. "I don't know... but I think I'm busy."

"You should check your diary."

"I don't have a diary."

"Then how do you know if you are busy?"

Jaime's expression was one filled with both amusement and a desire to see her bat back, but she had nothing to offer him but nervousness and anxiety. And what kind of man would want that? Certainly not one who already had a soured relationship under his belt, and whose ex-wife was the type of woman who was more a ball-breaker than a wilting flower. And especially not one who looked like Jaime. They liked confident girls who were comfortable in their sexuality and were flirty and pretty enough to hold a man's attention. Brienne was none of those things, so the fact he was even asking her scared her more than charming her.

"I'm sorry," she said gently, not wanting to hurt his feelings. "Maybe some other time."

It didn't work, as his eyes suddenly went very sparkly before he looked down at the floor. "Oh yeah... sure. Whenever really... it's no big deal..."

Not really sure how to make this better, Brienne stuffed the last few of her belongings into her bag before turning away from him.

"I'll see you around, Professor Lannister."

"It's _Jaime_ ," he said, correcting her.

"I'll see you around, Jaime."

Although Jaime had a pained look on his face, Brienne was certain there was nothing she could do that would make this any better, so dashed out of the basement, her heart beating wildly. She only realised how small and cramped the room had been when she got into the corridor and managed to suck in a great gulp of air, even as her cheeks burnt brightly.

_Why am I such an idiot?_ she asked herself as she raced out of the library at full pelt, trying to stop her fear overcoming her. _Why do I always manage to ruin things, even when they are_ nice _things? Nice things like Jaime?_

Not bothering to wait for the bus, Brienne did not stop running all the way home. She was so unused to the caring, easy way that Jaime was treating her that she found it strangely threatening and needed some space in order to process her thoughts. Therefore, she was thankful when she finally arrived back in her flat to find it serenely quiet. At first, it seemed a pleasant state of affairs, but it finally struck her as strange when she ventured into the lounge to find Loras asleep on the sofa, the TV still on, and a bowl of discarded crisps resting on his stomach. Seeing him there, Brienne suddenly realised that Loras should have come to the library to avoid Renly and Margaery, but he had never shown up at all.

Instead, Brienne had been confronted with Jaime.

Who had suspiciously known just where to find her...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading. As ever, I would love to hear all your thoughts!
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	56. What's in a Name?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Sansa tries to set Brienne up with her beautiful and sensitive friend Jay from art class, Brienne starts a war with Jaime, the incredibly rude barista at her local coffee shop...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks for reading. There's a little casual sexism in this one, but otherwise you are free to go!
> 
> This was inspired by a prompt from letter-to-theo for the short fic asks prompts. She asked for No. 6 "meeting at a coffee shop AU". I hope you enjoy!

Brienne did not have time for anything - especially dating - given her job. _Baratheon & Tyrell _was one of the most prestigious law firms in the city and it expected the best from its solicitors. Consequently, Brienne was always the first one there in the mornings (at eight o'clock sharp) and the last one to leave in the evening (normally after nine). She always volunteered to work overtime - especially when Renly asked - and was determined to prove to her superiors that she was nothing less than the perfect employee. She wanted to make partner by thirty.

Given her busy work life, Brienne therefore always ended up rolling her eyes whenever Sansa tried to set her up with anyone. How would she have the time to fit a potential boyfriend into her life, after all?

"Sansa, I told you, I don't want to date..."

"Why not?" asked her friend, as if Brienne hadn't told her the answer thirty-thousand times already.

"Because my job is the most important thing to me, and I want to prove to all the sexist men in the department that I am just as strong, just as tough, and just as intelligent as them."

"But does that mean you have to have no love life?" replied Sansa, seemingly not caring that she was being abominably rude. "You could still find time to date if you wanted to. In fact, I know someone perfect..."

"Urrrrggghhhh!"

"Hey, don't knock it till you've tried it!" squawked Sansa. "You know I'm the best matchmaker in town. Jeyne and Theon are simply _perfect_ together, and that was all due to me!"

Brienne thought it was a little bit of a cheek for Sansa to claim that she got Jeyne and Theon together, since Jeyne and Theon first met at a party to which Sansa had brought Theon as a date. Nevertheless, Brienne let her friend live out her delusion. She was too kind to dispute her recollection.

"I know, but I think I might be a bit harder to set up..."

"Why? Because of your job?"

"No," countered Brienne, "because of my--"

"If you say _face_ I will literally scream."

Brienne rolled her eyes. "Fine, I won't say my face, but I'm still far, _far_ too busy to date."

It was no lie. Most days, Brienne had to get up at some ungodly hour of the morning in order to get the train into the office, which was in central King's Landing. The only chance she got to speak to anyone outside her colleagues during the day was whichever barista was on duty at _Bronn's Beans_ when she rolled up to order her tall, non-fat latte with caramel drizzle.

Normally, it was polite Pod or chatty Pia, but when Brienne arrived on the Monday morning after rebuffing Sansa's match-making attempts, she discovered there was a newbie behind the counter with Pod. Brienne almost did a double take when she first saw him, as he clearly did not belong at _Bronn's Beans,_ but on the front cover of _Vogue._ The new barista was a demigod with such verdant green eyes that Brienne momentarily wondered whether they were actual emeralds, and hair that looked like spun gold. His face was peppered with a well-cultivated designer stubble that Brienne could only conclude had been designed to get her fantasising about what it would feel like if she kissed him. Quite against her better instincts, her face flushed with desire.

"Excuse me, are you going to keep staring at me like that or, you know, give me your order?"

It took Brienne a few moments to realise Adonis was talking to her. "Who, me?"

The barista pretended to dramatically look around the empty coffee shop. "No, one of the other three thousand customers I have in here this morning."

Brienne furrowed her brow in annoyance. She already had a very important phone call to make to a client in Braavos, and a meeting with Stannis about the reports she had to get done by next week. Although part of her thought having a pleasant looking barista would perk up her otherwise terrible day, another more sensible part of Brienne knew she did not have time in her morning for rudeness.

"Jaime," said Pod gently from next to him, "you have to be _polite_ to the customers."

Thankful that Pod had given her an out, Brienne nodded. "Yes, what ever happened to _customers know best?"_

Jaime the barista looked at her sceptically for a few moments, one of his perfect golden eyebrows (which was perfectly golden like the rest of his body) almost disappearing into his hairline. "Sorry, it's just men don't like being ogled either. It's sexual harassment."

"I wasn't ogling you!" she lied, going even redder. "I was just thinking about all the stuff I have to do today. I'm a very busy solicitor at _Baratheon & Tyrell _and I..."

Jaime rolled his eyes in irritation. "And I'm a very busy barista, so if you would please just give me your order, I will be immensely grateful."

"Jaime!" squawked Pod. "What did I say about being rude to customers?"

In a poor attempt to ameliorate the situation, Jaime flashed a smile so blinding at Brienne, that it almost knocked her over. "I'm so terribly sorry. _Your Majesty_ , would you like to order a coffee?"

Brienne bit down on her bottom lip. She did not have the time or energy to devote to arguing with an insanely hot (and insanely rude) barista, so she swallowed all her insults and ordered her drink.

"I'll have a tall, non-fat latte with caramel drizzle."

The barista smirked. " _Please."_

"Jaime!" said Pod again, this time with an indignant tone.

"It's fine, Pod," said Brienne tersely, pulling her purse out. "I'm used to monstrously rude dinosaurs in my line of work."

At that comment, Jaime the barista looked outraged. "I'm rude!" he spluttered indignantly. " _I'm rude!"_

"Jaime, just make the coffee," ordered Pod under his breath, while trying to smile back at Brienne. "It was a tall, non-fate latte with caramel drizzle, wasn't it?"

"Yes, please."

As Jaime looked at her sullenly from by the coffee machine, Podrick tried to smooth things over. "We will get your order as soon as possible, Brienne. Maybe if you would like to take a seat?"

Brienne gave Pod a nod of thanks before going to sit at one of the tables to wait for her coffee. _Bronn's Beans_ was empty apart from herself and the two men behind the counter so, while pretending to read texts on her phone, she surreptitiously stole glances at Pod and Jaime as they bickered in hushed voices.

"You can't be rude to customers," hissed Pod, "or we'll never sell any coffee."

Jaime's shining eyes opened wide. "I wasn't the one being rude. She was ogling me."

"Brienne was _not_ ogling you. She was _looking_ at you. There's a difference."

"I think I can tell the difference, especially having a face like this. You can see what people want from you in their eyes."

At that arrogant comment, Podrick went very red and slammed a balled fist down on the counter. "Can you please just make Brienne her coffee? Or I will have to report this to Bronn."

Jaime let out a huff of amusement. "Like Bronn will do anything."

Pod's mouth was a line of irritation and dislike. "Please. Just. Make. The. Coffee."

Sighing dramatically, Jaime finally went to retrieve one of the paper cups from the side, before returning to the coffee machine to make her hot drink. Brienne rippled with a kind of vindictive pleasure as she watched him having to conform to her will. She rarely got men paying attention to her at work, after all.

 _Brienne:_ My day's off to a brilliant start. I just went in to pick up my morning coffee and just had to deal with the rudest barista I've ever met in my life. He accused me of ogling him.

 _Sansa:_ As if! What an arrogant douche bag!

 _Brienne:_ I know. I was just looking at him. You are allowed to look at people, aren't you?

 _Sansa:_ Totally. You might have to give him a break, though. Working as a barista this early in the morning must be soul destroying.

Brienne wanted to reply telling Sansa not to be so thoughtful, when a voice rang around the room that instantly put her on edge.

"Brian? Is Brian here? I've got your coffee."

Sensing where he was going with this, Brienne looked up to see Jaime the barista holding out her coffee at her goadingly, determinedly not calling her by her name. "Brian, I've got your tall, non-fat latte with caramel drizzle. Will you come get it? Oh, where art thou Brian?"

Flames of fury and embarrassment licking her face, Brienne did not instantly respond, but stayed rooted in her seat. She would not give him the opportunity to wind her up further when he knew full well that her name was _Brienne,_ not Brian.

Jaime's smirk grew. "Brian? _BRIAN?_ Oh well, Pod, it looks like Brian is not here. We'll have to throw her tall, non-fat latte with caramel drizzle away."

"No we will not!" huffed Pod, snatching the coffee out of Jaime's hand. "Brienne? I am sorry about the delay. Here is your drink."

At Pod's contrite expression, Brienne got up from her seat and went to take her coffee. She fixed Pod with a firm smile that purposefully excluded Jaime. "Thank you so much, Podrick. It's nice to see that at least one of the baristas at _Bronn's Beans_ is polite."

"I'm sorry," said Pod, as if all the weight of the world was resting on his shoulders. "Jaime is Bronn's old friend from school, so there is no taming him."

Jaime let out a dark chuckle. "Maybe I don't want to be tamed. Maybe I want to be wild."

Given that he was once again smirking at her, Brienne pulled a face at him before taking her coffee. "I don't care for wild animals. They can give you rabies."

She stalked out of _Bronn's Beans_ without another word.

* * *

In the following weeks, work was hard.

 _Baratheon & Tyrell _were facilitating the merger of one ruinous oversized pharmaceutical company with another ruinous oversized pharmaceutical company, and Brienne was on the team that was committed to making sure the whole process ran smoothly. It meant she had much less time for hobbies and needed much more coffee to function.

"Morning Brian," Jaime would chirp at her every morning. "Why the glum face?"

The real answer was that she had not had her coffee yet, but she found herself saying, "because I have to see _you._ One tall, non-fat latte with caramel drizzle to go."

Jaime's smile was cut-glass as he gazed at her, shining and perfect in the early morning and his eyes seemed to burn. Even though she hated his guts, Brienne's couldn't believe how physically attractive he was.

"You know, you could try saying please."

" _Please,"_ she snapped, not wanting to look at him or his smirk anymore. Turning around, she went to take her usual spot at the table while she waited for the order. Once again, she texted Sansa.

 _Brienne:_ It's the fourth day in a row I've had the sexy dickhead barista in _Bronn's Beans_. Can my day get any worse?

 _Sansa:_ 😂 B, he's your barista. Just enjoy the view and then go to work. Don't let him get under your skin.

 _Brienne:_ But he calls me Brian on purpose just to wind me up. Why are men like this, seriously? This is why I don't date.

 _Sansa:_ Is it? Reaaallllllyyy?

 _Brienne:_ What do you mean by that?

Brienne did not get her answer until she caught up with Sansa that weekend. The two of them went to an outside tea shop in town, trying fruit teas to their hearts content. However, Brienne did not feel completely relaxed, as Sansa was once again getting on her case about her love life.

"What I mean is that you are scared of opening your heart again since Ron, because you think that people are just out to get you in the way that he did. I promise you that's not true."

At that statement, Brienne took a huge sip of her tea in order to hide her blush. She decidedly did _not_ want to talk about Connington. He was a lawyer at the rival _Lannister & Lannister _law firm who had attempted to seduce her in order to winkle out some of _Baratheon & Tyrell's _secrets. He had dumped her quite brutally at the Christmas Party when Brienne had not budged an inch, but that was not the worst thing about the whole situation. When her line manager, Randyll Tarly, had heard about what Ron had done, he blamed Brienne for being a foolish girl who should have kept her legs closed, and she had spent _years_ trying to regain her former reputation for competence and level-headedness.

Given her past experiences, Brienne was a little sceptical about Sansa's ode to the milk of human kindness, so rolled her eyes. "Oh yes, I am sure there are lots of attractive single men out there who would give me the time of day."

"There are!" cried Sansa, as if she was the sidekick in some bad kid's movie. "I know _loads_ of men who would kill to date you."

Brienne snorted into her tea. "Oh yeah? Like who?"

"Well," said Sansa, leaning forward in an attempt to embroil Brienne in her mad-cap dating conspiracy. "You know I've been going to this life drawing class recently?"

"Yes," replied Brienne slowly, knowing all too well about her friend's desire to _let her creative spirit flow_ or whatever.

"Most of the class are old dears in their seventies and eighties who are rediscovering the passions of their youths after their husbands kicked the bucket, but there is this lovely guy who everyone fawns over called Jay."

"Is he the local hottie because he's in his sixties?" asked Brienne teasingly.

Sansa rolled her eyes. "No, it's because he's in his early thirties and honestly, he's to die for. He looks like a fucking god, but at the same time is so sweet and sensitive. His dad was some big lawyer-y type in Lannisport who wanted him to take over the family firm, but Jay always wanted to be an artist, so he moved to King's Landing to chase his dream. When I first met him, he told me his love for all that Pre-Raphaelite stuff that you once dragged me to the Baelor Art Gallery to see, and his favourite film is the _Kingslayer and the Wench,_ just like you. I know you would get on like a house on fire if you actually met. It would be so cool if you'd let me set you up; he's looking for new friends in King's Landing."

Brienne had to admit, this Jay did seem her type. He sounded as if he had an artistic soul and had the guts to go and chase the things he really wanted. In her dreams, Jay would be just the type of man Brienne would want to date.

For that reason, she instantly knew the prospect was futile.

"A charming, sensitive man who looks like a god is not going to want to go out with me, Sansa," said Brienne firmly, finally. Her friend went to interrupt, but Brienne held up her hand to stop her. "Please, don't try and give me some platitude about beauty only being skin deep or something, because I know it is a lie. Jay - if he's as hot and lovely as you keep saying he is - would not give me a second glance."

Sansa pouted at Brienne, folding her arms across her chest in her annoyance. "Brienne, I wish you would give yourself a chance..."

"I don't have the time for dating, anyway. I told you. I'm busy at work. Can we talk about something else, please?"

* * *

While Brienne might have been too busy for dating, there was someone that decidedly wasn't.

Jaime.

A few days after her meeting with Sansa, Brienne walked into _Bronn's Beans_ in search of her tall, non-fat latte with caramel drizzle, only to find him behind the counter with the other barista, Pia, draped all over him. On catching sight of them, Brienne sighed. She had hoped Pia might be an ally.

"Oh gods, you are so funny Jaime," said Pia, taking the opportunity to rest her hand against his bicep and give it a light squeeze. "How are you so funny?"

Jaime smiled at her, all sunshine beauty and arrogance. "It's just natural born talent, I guess." It was at that moment that Brienne reached the counter, and, in a heartbeat, Jaime's expression turned from sunny to stormy. "Oh, look who it is. It is Brian here for her tall, non-fat latte with caramel drizzle."

"Hello to you too, Jaime," said Brienne tersely, drawing to a rigid stand still. "Will you please hurry up with my coffee? I've been called into an early meeting with my line manager... I think I might be getting a promotion."

At once, Pia broke into a happy smile. "Congratulations, Brienne."

"Thank you, Pia," said Brienne, before turning back to Jaime the barista and giving him a hard look. "What? Got nothing to say?"

He shrugged. "Not really. Congratulations on climbing the corporate ladder, I guess. I'm sure it brings you much happiness and fulfilment in life."

"Jaime," chided Pia reproachfully, in a way that still bordered on flirty.

Brienne waved her hand at Pia dismissively. "Don't worry. I'm used to the rudest barista in the entire world."

"At least I'm not the rudest _barrister_ like you are," snarked back Jaime.

"Gods, you can't even get your law jokes right," said Brienne with a roll of her eyes. "I'm a solicitor, not a barrister. And _you_ are a barista, so will you please get me my coffee?"

Brienne tried not to be irritated as Jaime took as much time as he liked making her coffee, and instead sat down at the table and nervously checked her make-up in her phone's camera. Randyll Tarly was a tough boss, but she hoped he would be fair. She had put lots of work in during the pharmaceutical company merger, after all.

"There you go, Brian," said Jaime eventually, putting her coffee down on the counter. "One tall, non-fat latte with caramel drizzle. That will be three dragons."

She took the coffee with an insincere smile, before paying the price.

She did not bother to leave a tip.

* * *

Armed with her tall, non-fat latte with caramel drizzle, Brienne took a deep breath as she stood outside Randyll's office. She was determined to remember this moment, as it was going to be the beginning of the rest of her career, the rest of her life. Steeling herself, she knocked on the door sharply, and waited to meet her fate.

"Come in."

Brienne obeyed at once and entered Randyll's office to find him sitting at his desk, drumming his fingers on the glass surface. Under his cool gaze, she suddenly felt very out of size and out of place, particularly holding her slightly girly tall, non-fat latte with caramel drizzle.

 _Randyll won't like that,_ she thought.

"Ah," said Randyll as Brienne came into the room. "You are here at last, Miss Tarth. Why don't you sit down? We have important things to discuss."

Brienne nodded to show her compliance, then took the seat opposite Randyll, desperately trying to keep her smile at bay. She had been waiting for this moment for so long and was already thinking of the things she could spend her higher salary on. Perhaps a holiday? Or maybe a little car to zip around the city? Or maybe...

"I'm sorry to bring you here under such unfortunately circumstances, Miss Tarth, but I always think it is best to rip the plaster off. As you know, ever since the pharmaceuticals merger _Baratheon & Tyrell _has been meaning to streamline its services and, unfortunately, it has therefore been decided that we are going to have to let you go."

Brienne blinked, shocked. "I'm sorry. What?"

"I know it is difficult to be made redundant in times like this, but we think it is best if you take one for the team. The firm offers a good redundancy package, and I think..."

Although Randyll continued to drone on, Brienne barely heard him, as she had been trapped by one term. _Take one for the team._ Her team had included Hyle Hunt, Mark Mullendore, and Ed Ambrose, and all of them were useless in all the ways it was possible to be useless. They relied on their connection to each other and Randyll's blatant favouritism to get ahead and had always taken her for granted.

"Is the whole team going?" she asked, hoping the answer was going to be _yes_ even though it made her a bad person.

Randyll looked at her awkwardly for a few moments, before pressing ahead. "Well... no. Hyle, Mark, and Ed all did sterling work on the pharmaceuticals case..."

"And you are saying I didn't?" replied Brienne, her fury building with every passing moment. She had conducted that merger almost single-handedly, so that it was _her_ being pushed aside instead of Hyle or Mark or Ed made her see red.

"Of course not," said Randyll, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "It's just that we feel the others fit into the ethos of _Baratheon & Tyrell _better, and have a chance at a long term career here."

Incensed, Brienne stood up, knocking her coffee over as she did so. Randyll looked horrified, but she could hardly care less. "You mean that Hyle, Mark, and Ed are _men,_ I suppose."

Randyll's eyes flashed. "If you are implying what I think you are implying..."

"You would be correct. I'm accusing you of sexism," Brienne snapped. "There must be some way to take you to court, or a tribunal, or..."

" _Or,_ " said Randyll forcefully, "you can just take your money, your good reference, and go. Perhaps that would be more fruitful for your career prospects than biting the hand that feeds you."

Biting down on all her anger, Brienne took another deep breath. In a moment of instant clarity, she realised that getting angry with her manager would do nothing to help her cause, and she was much better off taking it up with HR. Consequently, she just nodded sharply at Randyll and tried to look professional.

"Thank you for your time," she managed to spit out, before turning around and fleeing the room.

Slamming Randyll's door behind her, Brienne set off as quickly as she could. Suddenly, the office felt a cold and oppressive place where once it had been full of opportunity. As her eyes were now blurred with tears, she didn't notice the colleagues she ran past, or the confused look on the receptionist's face as she skidded on by.

 _This can't be happening,_ she thought, horrified. _I need some air. I need some air..._

The wind hit her face as a cold blast when she got outside, but Brienne hardly cared. She needed some time alone. Her feet moved without her conscious control, so soon she was powering down the street, barely noticing the world around her. In her life, Brienne had only had her job to give her meaning and direction, so it felt as something huge that made her who she was had been wrenched out of the centre of her chest.

 _I'm a failure,_ she thought, horrified. _I'm a total failure. I'm..._

"Woah, Brian. Where are you going? Have you come to buy another tall, non-fat latte with caramel drizzle with your raise?"

Having been abruptly pulled out of her own thoughts, Brienne looked up to realise she was outside _Bronn's Beans._ Jaime was standing outside holding a huge box of paper cups. As usual, he was wearing one of his goading smirks. The sight of him - all golden, perfect, and utterly riling - pushed her over the edge.

"I just got made redundant," she spluttered, her tears overwhelming her at last.

Jaime's expression turned from smirking to soft in an instant. "Oh gods, I'm so sorry..."

"As if," she bit back. "Surely you are happy the corporate world has chewed me up and spat me out, revealing what a stupid deluded fool I am."

"That's not true. I..."

"I don't need your sympathy," Brienne said, holding up a hand to silence him. "In fact, we don't need to talk to each other ever again, because there's no need for me to come back here at all now I no longer have a job. The coffee was always terrible, anyway."

He went to put the box down. "Brienne..."

"No," she barked. "I don't want your sympathy. Just leave me alone."

She marched away, leaving him in the dust, before he could say another word.

* * *

The weeks after losing her job were painfully hard.

Mostly, Brienne just sat around in her pyjamas. She knew she should _try_ to find a new job - her savings wouldn't last forever - but could just not bring herself to. She had no energy and could not find the strength to pick herself back up and put her heart and soul into another job that would just leave her crushed.

Her one saving grace was Sansa. Every day, she would come around, bringing healthy snacks, soup, and a kind ear. With gentle coaxing, after a few weeks Sansa eventually encouraged Brienne to go out for walks, and it was only under Sansa's gentle direction that Brienne eventually started to feel like herself again.

"It is totally understandable that you take a little time before you start job hunting," Sansa said, as they went for a walk along Blackwater Bay. "Your job at _Baratheon & Tyrell _was high stress. Maybe you want to take some time to think about things a little more clearly and use your time to have a little fun."

Brienne raised an eyebrow sceptically. "A little fun? What do you mean by that?"

Sansa paused for a moment, clearly thinking of the best way to put it. "I mean, while you were working at _Baratheon & Tyrell _you were always too busy to date. Now, you have the time to focus on that aspect of your life, should you so wish."

Rolling her eyes, Brienne said, "not this again."

"I know you want to find someone," exclaimed Sansa firmly, and it would have been a lie for Brienne to defy her. "So I don't know why you are so resistant to the idea."

"I don't want to go on the dating apps. They are cold and impersonal. Maybe I want to find love the traditional way."

That made Sansa brighten up at once. "Then let me set you up with somebody. I told you about Jay from my art class, didn't I? He would be absolutely perfect for you. He's funny and interesting, caring and compassionate, and he's a sight for sore eyes."

Although Brienne knew Sansa's offer was very generous and sweet, she couldn't help pushing back against it. What if this famously beautiful man was turned off by her less than fortunate looks the moment they met?

"Sansa, I know you are trying to help me, it's just..."

As Brienne went to object, Sansa wheeled around until she was standing in front of her friend, forcing them both to come to a halt. Her expression was stern. "Brienne, you've got to learn to _live._ Just let me set you up on this one date. If it doesn't work out, I'll never set you up on another one, but I promise you that I am not picking Jay to hurt you. I think you will genuinely get on. So will you at least consider it?"

Brienne sighed. She knew Sansa was right, even if the prospect of dating again made her a little anxious.

"Alright," Brienne eventually said resignedly, which caused Sansa to let out a little cheer. "Just this one date, but if it doesn't work out, I'm suing you."

"I'll gladly let you," grinned Sansa.

* * *

On the day of the date itself, Brienne's stomach was churning, but not for the reasons she had expected. She had thought she would find the whole experience anxiety inducing due to fact she was concerned he wouldn't be able to be polite about the way she looked. Ron Connington hadn't managed to, after all.

No, the reason she was so nervous was because she was _excited._ After having agreed to Sansa playing matchmaker, Brienne had quickly received Jay's number, and the two of them had started chatting over text almost immediately. Sansa had been correct; Jay did seem funny and charming, with a wide range of interests that matched her own. While they had initially agreed to meet for dinner at a nice restaurant by Aegon's High Hill, they had ended up also planning to go to the exhibition of Pre-Raphaelite art at the Baelor Art Gallery. Brienne knew it was too early to get excited, but nevertheless, she was certain this interraction had _potential._

 _Jay:_ I'll be there at seven, wearing a maroon suit jacket. What about you?

 _Brie:_ I'll be in a blue dress. I am so looking forward to meeting you!

 _Jay:_ Same!

As Brienne waited at the restaurant, she kept her eyes glued on the drinks menu in order to give herself something to focus on. She wasn't used to dating and wanted to make the best impression.

 _Don't get your hopes up,_ she told herself. _You haven't even met the guy yet. Even though he sounds nice in texts..._

"Well, well, well, look who it is."

Brienne snapped her head up at the familiar voice. Jaime the abominably rude barrister was standing right in front of her, a teasing expression on his face. Her mood soured at once.

"Oh, it's _you."_

"Nice to see you too, Brian. What are you doing at such a lovely restaurant on an evening like this?"

Brienne's cheeks flushed at the question. "Not that it is _any_ of your business, but I am here for a date."

"That's strange," he smirked, sliding into the seat opposite her. "So am I."

Irritated that Jaime had taken Jay's seat, Brienne put the menu down and fixed him with a furious gaze. "What are you doing? My date will be arriving at any moment, so if you could please _leave..._ "

"Why would I leave?" he asked, his infuriating smile growing. "Sansa told me she has a close friend who is ambitious and brave and strong and tremendous and maybe just a little bit shy, who has the same interests as me. I was kinda looking forward to coming on a date with her."

Brienne's mouth dropped open in shock as she was barely able to compute what he had just said. "What?"

"You heard me," he grinned, suddenly every bit the golden god Brienne had thought him the first time she saw him. "In case you haven't noticed, I am wearing a maroon suit jacket and you a blue dress. I think we are meant to be on a date. So, can I buy you a drink? Do you want a tall, non-fat latte with caramel drizzle, or something a bit stronger?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading!
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	57. Light in the Darkness: Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jaime arrives at the hospital seriously injured, Nurse Brienne has to confront her feelings for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, thanks for coming back! This chapter is a follow up to chapter 40, "A Light in the Darkness: Part I", so contains discussion of suicide (be warned).
> 
> This was inspired by a prompt from inksanddaisies. She said: "Hi there, I would like to suggest three movie quotes for prompts: "without you, today's emotions would be the scurf of yesterday's" (Amelie, 2001), "When was the last time you were hugged?" this beautiful fantastic 2016 and "unable to perceive the shape of you, I find you all around me. Your presence fills my eyes with your love, it humbles my heart, for you are everywhere", shape of water, 2016"
> 
> I have used those quotes in some way (but sometimes with alternative translations, and sometimes altered). I hope you enjoy!

Brienne knew it was wrong to be here; nurses were meant to keep a professional distance from their patients, after all. However, she could not bring herself to leave. Jaime's father had been a no show, Cersei had refused to come, and Tyrion's flight had been delayed so, in some cruel twist of fate, Brienne was going to be the only one here for him when he came around from his operation. He would need comforting. The doctors were still monitoring his chest in case infection sunk in. It was already such a terrible thing for Jaime to reconcile himself to, that Brienne found she could not leave him.

Brushing his hair out of his eyes, Brienne told herself she was being selfless by sitting by his side, when - in her heart of hearts - she knew she was being _selfish_.

 _Jaime is not mine,_ she thought, even as she cupped his cheek with her hand in order to feel how the texture of his beard had changed in the years since she had last touched him. _He was not in his right mind when he wrote that note to Tyrion. And anyway, this is not about me. It's about Jaime, and the fact he needs help._

That Jaime had tried to kill himself struck Brienne to her very core. She had always known he was prone to self-recrimination and self-hatred, but not in her worst nightmares had she imagined he would feel so alone that he would decide oblivion was better than living.

"What am I going to do with you?" she asked him gently. "My poor, poor Jaime."

 _Look after him,_ she thought. _Love him and care for him in any way he needs until he can feel the sunlight on his skin again._

Brienne ran the pad of her thumb across his cheekbone, as she had when they were in love and Jaime would have permitted her to lean in and kiss him. She did not do that now, because it would be impertinent, rude, and entirely non-consensual, yet she wanted to more than anything.

_That note means nothing, that note..._

At her touch, his eyes fluttered open, as if he were Sleeping Beauty just kissed by her true love. As he blinked confusedly, Brienne leapt back not wanting him to think that she was intruding where she was not wanted.

"Where am I?" croaked Jaime, trying to move even though he was attached to a drip.

Keeping her hands off him, Brienne nevertheless gestured for him to lay back down. "Mr Lannister," she said consolingly. "You have just woken up from surgery at KLU Hospital after quite a serious accident. It is important you remain calm and lay back down."

"It was no accident, it was on purpose." he barked. Nevertheless, he obeyed her. Grumbling to himself, it took a few moments before he looked at her. "I wanted to end... _Brienne_."

Jaime's eyes went so wide that Brienne thought she could see stars in them. He had always been so beautiful to her. Even now that he was twenty years older, injured and vulnerable, he was still as marvellous to her as he had been when they were young and in love.

 _Why have I never been able to let him go?_ she wondered.

"Hello Jaime," she said tentatively, as he continued to stare at her, goggle-eyed. "It has been a long time."

His Adam's Apple bobbed in his throat as he tried to find the words. It was clear he was in no time for pleasantries. "Brienne... what are you doing here?"

"I told you," she replied, still not wanting to get too close. "You were in an accident. I was on duty at the time... I'm a nurse here... and I thought you would want someone to sit with you when you came around. Your injuries are quite extensive, and I thought you might need someone to help you accept all this... if you found it hard."

At her explanation, Jaime's eyes began to well with tears, and for a moment Brienne worried that he was in pain. "You came to sit here with me? Why?"

Three words would be all she needed to tell him everything he needed to know, but Brienne was not brave enough to say them. "I'm a nurse. It is my job... it's..."

"You always told me nurses never had time to sit with individual patients," interrupted Jaime, a knowing look in his eyes. "I'll ask again. What are you doing here?"

Jaime had always so easily gotten under her skin, with his teasing tone, green eyes, and ability to goad her so effectively. But in that moment, Brienne knew she would not reveal her heart to him so readily, not when he had once discarded it as if it was something of no value.

"When you were brought into the hospital, I was given your belongings to sort through. I found the note you left Tyrion. I know it was no accident."

The limited colour in Jaime's face drained from his cheeks at once. "You read that?"

"Yes," she said, dropping her eyes to her lap. "But don't worry; I know you were not in your right mind when you wrote that letter. It didn't mean anything."

He furrowed his brow, a storm of annoyance and resentment. "You think my _suicide note_ didn't mean anything? Did you not think I was serious?"

"I think you were serious - otherwise you would not be here - but I think what you wrote about me was the product of how much you were suffering. It's been twenty years. You can't think of me that way anymore."

"Are you saying you don't think of me that way anymore?"

Brienne had to consider her answer. She was different from the person Jaime had abandoned in the snow all those years ago, and her feelings towards him were also different. They were no longer those of a naive girl who believed in happily ever after's, but those of a woman who knew that her time with Jaime had been the most wonderful of her life. Even though their relationship had ended badly, Brienne still loved him for the life they had lived together, and for what might have once been possible.

"Not quite," she said honestly, which caused his face to fall. Not being able to stand him looking so wounded, Brienne reached out and took his hand. Jaime gave her a weak smile. "I am no longer that girl you left. I am a woman, with a woman's feelings. I have tried to find love again and have sometimes succeeded; my son Pod is the light of my life. Yet I have found romantic love feels wrong when you are not with me. Without you, my feelings now are but the dead, discarded remnants of my feelings yesterday. Love isn't love if I'm not loving you."

His eyes full of tears, Jaime tried to squeeze her hand, but he was in too much pain. Although it was against all protocol, Brienne leant forward and pressed a lingering kiss to his forehead. When she drew back, she saw there were tears on his cheeks.

"Jaime..."

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "No one has been so poetic about me before."

She lifted her hand to gently wipe away his tears. "You had Cersei, didn't you?"

"I never had Cersei," Jaime admitted, looking so horribly guilty she thought he might break in two. "I had a mirage, a dream of her. It took fifteen years of her lying and cheating on me to realise I had picked a fantasy over what _we_ had, what was real. We broke up three years ago, and I thought about coming to find you, but you were with Hyle and I came to the conclusion that I could never have you back because I didn't deserve you... I've never deserved you... And then my father disowned me because I refused to come and work for him, and Cersei is trying to take me for everything I have in the divorce courts. I realised I had fucked everything up, and that this is not the life I wanted to live. The only person who cares about me is Tyrion, and I am a disappointment to him. He would be happier without me, so I just thought..."

That was such a monstrous lie that Brienne did not feel she could answer it with a direct response. Instead, she asked, "when was the last time you were hugged?" 

Jaime blinked. "What?"

"It seems to me," said Brienne slowly, not wanting to be too presumptuous, "that you have lived without love for a very long time and, if I am honest, so have I. Perhaps..." 

Her word trailed off as she lost her courage. Suggesting that she might hold him in her arms was almost too much.

At her silence, Jaime gazed at her intently, trying to convey the extent of his gratitude with his eyes. "I felt your love... always, albeit distantly in my darkest moments. Although I was unable to perceive the shape of you, I found you all around me," Jaime said, his eyes glistening. Her hand went once more to his cheek, and he leaned into her touch. "And now you are here... your presence fills me with your love, and it humbles my heart. How can you be here now when I was so awful to you? You have been everywhere to me every day since I last saw you; in the sky, in the stars, in my heart, in..."

"Now who is getting poetic? Is it the morphine?" Brienne teased tenderly, unable to cope with these raw exposed emotions that she had been trying to suppress in herself for most of the time they had been apart.

Jaime tried to shake his head but winced with pain. "No poetry. It's just that I have been trying to work out what to say to you if I ever saw you again for twenty years... and I don't know if I did it right."

"You did it perfectly," she said reassuringly. "And when you are better - in both body and mind - we will talk about this properly. We will go out for dinner and discuss things, then perhaps we could share those hugs we've long been missing. But for now you must get your rest."

He glowed with such happiness that, in spite of his bruises, Brienne thought he looked like an angel. 

"Will you stay with me, until I fall sleep?" he asked, like a boy who suffered from nightmares.

"Yes," replied Brienne gently. Sensing he needed some affection; she once again lifted her hand and ran her fingers through his hair. "I'll stay with you as long as you need me."

Jaime smiled. "And I will stay with you."

* * *

Three weeks later, Jaime came out of hospital and Brienne went round to visit him to talk and then to cuddle. She insisted that he continue his therapy as a condition for rejoining her life. 

"I have a son now," she told him. "If you come back into my life, you must know this is a real commitment. I can't have you messing me around now like you did back then. This is it."

He nodded. "I know. This is it for me too. I will never leave you. I promise."

As it turned out, Jaime would keep his oath. As soon as his divorce came through, Jaime and Brienne got married, and they stayed that way for another thirty five years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! As ever, I would love to hear what you think!
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	58. Cello Suite No. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne starts to play the cello for Jaime in a series of private concerts, and the tension builds...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So this is the long awaited Part 3 of the Cello Universe! jencat asked "Hey hey! I just had a lovely reread of some of your stories, but the Cellist Brienne one left me so sad! If inspiration strikes for another installment (preferably with something horrible happening to Hyle!), I'd love to read :)"
> 
> Warning, there is implication of domestic violence in this one!

The first time Brienne came to play her cello at Jaime's house, Hyle had gone away for the weekend with the boys, meaning she needed to make no excuses and there would be no interruptions.

 _Thank the gods,_ Jaime thought.

Although Brienne had refused to take the lilies last time, Jaime thought it would only be right if he bought her more and place them in a vase right where she could see them, so if she wanted to take them, she would be able to. He also bought snacks, because he thought she might get hungry, what with her being a world class cellist and all.

When Brienne arrived, she was wearing a dress of such a deep blue that it made her eyes look like stars, shining in the night's sky. As Jaime stood on his doorstep wordlessly opening and closing his mouth in admiration, she gave him a nervous smile.

"Sorry I am late. I had to help Hyle finish his packing."

As any mention of Brienne's boyfriend made him irrationally angry, Jaime forced himself to smile. "No worries. Come in."

He soon worked out that Brienne was super strong, as he carried her cello into his house as if it was as light as a feather and put it down in the living room. She then looked at him nervously.

"Do you want me to play now, or...?"

Jaime shook his head, then pulled at the hem of his jumper. "No! Not if you don't want to! You can have a drink first, if you would like... or a snack. I have camomile tea... or coffee... or if you would like something stronger..."

"A tea would be great," she said, giving him a smile that hid her teeth.

There were a few seconds of silent awkwardness before Jaime nodded and retreated to the kitchenette to make tea. Once he had departed, he heard Brienne begin to set up the cello, loudly undoing the clips of the case then finding the best dining chair to sit on for the performance. For some reason, Jaime's hand was shaking as he made the tea.

"Do you want me to take the teabag out or will you do it yourself?" he called, more to take the edge off his tension than because he actually expected an answer.

Brienne stopped setting up her cello for a moment. "Umm... keep the teabag in please."

"Okay."

Once he had his order, Jaime paced back and forwards as he watched the kettle boil, chewing at his lip as he did so. Brienne had gone from merely finding the right spot to play her cello to warming up. She picked a note that felt almost universal and natural, then shaped her instrumental voice around it. After plucking a few pizzicato notes, she then bowed some broken chords, carving out the limits of her instrument and making them converge. By the time Jaime returned to the room with her tea, all the tension that had pervaded her when she entered his house was gone. Instead, the heavy body of her cello was resting between her strong thighs, and the way she was curled around her instrument seemed natural and good.

Jaime swallowed heavily.

"I brought you your tea," he said, as she looked up at him with her luminescent eyes. "Where do you want it?"

Brienne did not quite meet his eyes. "On the table is alright. Is it okay if I use this dining chair?"

"Of course," replied Jaime, as he went to put the tea on the table. His arm brushed Brienne's back as he did so, and his hair stood on end. "You are welcome to use anything in this house."

Jaime quashed the tiny voice that said " _even me_ " the moment it made itself known.

Once he had retrieved his own drink from the kitchen, Jaime came back into the room a little uncertainly. "Where do you want me to sit? On one of the dining chairs?"

Brienne shook her head. "No. Why don't you sit on the sofa facing me? That way it will be like I actually have an audience."

At her reassurance that he _was_ her audience, Jaime went and sat down on the sofa. He put his drink down next to the lamp, before turning to look at her. He found it a little disarming that she was already gazing at him.

"So, what are you playing for me?" he asked.

"Beethoven's Cello Sonata No. 3," she said quickly, a blush coming to her cheeks. "You will have to imagine the piano part, I am afraid, but picture it as a conversation between two people who have just met but don't yet know the love that they will one day share. It has passion, darkness, and softness in equal share. Do you think you can picture that?"

Looking into her blue eyes, he knew he could.

* * *

The second time Brienne came to play her cello at Jaime's house, he was still humming Beethoven's Cello Sonata No. 3. She had played so well last time that he had bought her yet more lilies, and this time left them somewhere even more prominent so that she would notice them.

"What have you got for me this time?" he asked excitedly, as he settled down on the sofa opposite her.

She bowed her instrument a few times before looking up at him. "Um... Haydn's Cello Concerto No. 1."

"Cool," said Jaime. "Why that one?"

"It is just nice. It flows... almost like water."

She was right. Unlike the Beethoven, the Haydn did not venture towards darker feelings and emotions but journeyed to simple spaces that allowed the listener to luxuriate in the sun. As the music washed over him, Jaime stretched out in the long grass, letting himself relax in a way he had not done in months.

 _Brienne,_ he thought, as she imagined her lying beside him in the sun. She stroked his cheeks with those same fingers she used to play the cello - her touch was so gentle - and then ran the pads of her digits over his lips.

_Brienne... Brienne... Brienne..._

"Jaime?"

He opened his eyes, and found Brienne leaning over him.

"Jaime? You fell asleep."

He sat up quickly. "Sorry. Your playing was so... soothing."

"That's fine," she said, with a dismissive wave of the hand. "It's just I have got to go home and didn't want to leave while you were still asleep."

Jaime got up, stretching. "Are you sure you don't want to stay a bit longer?"

"No, I've got to go home and make Hyle his dinner."

_Oh._

The two of them stayed in complete silence as Brienne packed her cello away, being particularly careful with the bow as she stowed it inside her case. Once she was done, she lifted up the case and began to pull it towards the door, but Jaime stopped her.

"Are you sure you don't want the lilies?" he asked, hopefully, "I think you deserve them. That was _beautiful."_

For a moment, Brienne's eyes lingered on them. Jaime wondered if she was considering taking them. However, eventually she just blushed, shook her head, and looked at the ground.

"You are very sweet," she said softly, wringing her hands, "but I can't accept them. You know that."

Jaime caught her hand in his, wanting to make her feel less nervous. As his grasp sprang as quickly as an animal trap, Brienne gazed up at him, startled, so he had use his words to try and soothe her.

"I know... I just want you to see them, at least. Perhaps you can imagine you have accepted them."

"Oh yes," she said, giving him a shy smile. "That sounds lovely."

Jaime had to agree, so he vowed to himself that he would get her lilies every single time that she played for him, so she could feel like a real talent in a concert hall, even if she was only playing for her slightly pathetic neighbour.

"Well, I'll make sure to get you some more next time you come around."

It took them a long time to get to his front door, because they kept talking about inconsequential things, laughing, and smiling. As they stood in the dim light of the hallway, Jaime found he was grinning so much that his cheeks hurt.

"I'll see you soon, Brienne," he said, as he finally forced himself to pull himself out of this happy little daydream that he was somehow living with her.

Blushing prettily, Brienne mumbled, "yes, I'll see you soon."

There were a few seconds of awkward staring, in which both Brienne and Jaime toyed with opening the door, before she finally found the courage and went for the doorknob. Once the door had been flung open, she turned back to Jaime and pecked a quick kiss to his reddened cheek.

It went by so fast that Jaime spent the next few days questioning whether it had actually happened.

* * *

The third time Brienne came to play her cello at Jaime's house, she was wearing such thick make-up that he did not realise she was trying to conceal a bruise until halfway through Saint-Saëns' _The Swan._

"Woah, what is that on your face?"

Brienne closed her eyes, ignoring him, then tried to continue through the legato passages.

Jaime tried again. "Hey, I asked you a question. What's that on your face?"

She stopped playing with an irritated jerk, then looked up at him with annoyance in her eyes. "Make-up. Even though I look like the back end of a cow, I am allowed to wear it, you know."

Jaime made a _tsk_ sound. "You don't look like the back end of a cow. I'm just asking why you have that great big shiner under your eye."

For a moment, it seemed as if Brienne would continue playing the cello, but the quite abruptly she stopped, and stared at him accusingly. "I tripped."

"I believe I've said this to you before, but: bullshit."

"I _did_ trip _._ I..."

"You didn't," Jaime said emphatically. "I hear you and Hyle through the walls. He shouts at you and treats you like shit, and I _know_ he hits you. Why do you defend him?"

In spite of his simple question, Brienne could not meet his eye. "I'm not defending him because there is nothing to defend. He's my boyfriend... and that's final."

Jaime let out a huff of laughter. "It is not final, actually. You could break up with him, you know."

"But I won't," she snapped. "We've been together for years, we have a house together, we..."

"Do you love him?"

Brienne balked. "Of course."

"Why don't you look me in the eye when you say that?"

Her face aflame with annoyance, Brienne narrowed her eyes as she zoned in on him. "Of course I love my boyfriend. We've been together for years."

"And yet you let him treat you badly."

There was a moment of tension - hot white and burning - when Jaime thought Brienne would shout at him. However, in the end, she just shook her head and let her mouth become a moue as she got to her feet.

"I don't have to listen to this."

"No, you don't," replied Jaime, leaping to a standing position in order to not let her dance out of reach, "but maybe you _should_ listen to it."

"Why?"

"Because you deserve good things. You deserve..."

Before Jaime could stop her, Brienne rolled her eyes and then turned away from him, determined to pack away her cello. Jaime's desire to fight dissolved at once.

"Wait, what are you doing?"

"Leaving. I'm not in the mood to hear you talk about Hyle like this."

Jaime tried to bite back his anger but found it difficult. "I'm sorry, Brienne. Truly. Sit back down. We don't have to talk about Hyle."

"I don't want to stay here now!"

Part of Jaime thought to stop her, but then he realised it would make him little better than Hyle. Brienne was her own woman and, if she wanted to leave, who was he to stop her? Consequently, she left the house with her very heavy cello case in perfect silence, her face pale with irritation. Part of him wanted her to realise the extent of his resentment, but quite against his instincts, Jaime did the gentlemanly thing of holding the door open for her when she went.

"Goodbye, Jaime," she said firmly.

Now it was his turn not to meet her eye. "Goodbye."

Brienne gave him one more tight smile before heading off down the garden path, leaving Jaime with no response but slamming the door shut. Once he had done so, he muttered some expletives under his breath, before going to get a drink of water. Holding the glass in his hand, he went to sit on the sofa, anger bubbling.

 _Why does she refuse to see the truth?_ he thought angrily. _Why can't she see that she deserves better?_

_Why can't she see that she could have me?_

Determined to be angry, Jaime took terse sips of water, wanting to well in spite for another half an hour or more...

... at least, he planned to, but then he noticed that Brienne had taken the lilies.

* * *

The fourth time Brienne came to play her cello at Jaime's house, he had her tea ready for her just how she liked it, as a way to say sorry. After a few days of not talking to each other, Jaime had caught Brienne as she came out of her house and said his apologies. As he had just about got her to agree to play for him again, Jaime had decided to pull out all the stops. He had the lights set at a soft, ambient glow and had a new bunch of lilies for her. By the time her impromptu concert series was finished, Jaime hoped to have her whole house filled with flowers.

He picked a nice shirt and a well cut blazer, which he worried was a little overdressed considering she was technically coming to just sit in his lounge. However, Jaime knew he had made the right choice when she turned up at the front door and could not quite meet his eye.

 _Maybe the loss of my hand has not totally disfigured me,_ he thought.

"So," said Jaime, settling down on the sofa once she had finished her tea. "What are you going to play me today?"

"Err, this is a little weird, but I'm going to play you _Kol Nidrei_ by Bruch."

Jaime did not know the composer or the piece, he could not fathom what was especially weird about it. "Okay. What it is about?"

"It is a setting of an old religious folksong of obscure origin," replied Brienne, resting the neck of the cello against her shoulder. "If you get emotional, I won't mind because this one has something quite soul-piercing about it. It is just like grief, set to music."

Jaime found that statement a little unnerving, but as she started to play, he realised she was right. It was melancholic and mournful, anguished over something that felt distant and not quite formed. Brienne shut her eyes as she played, the music somehow seeming an extension of herself, words spoken in a language that was entirely her own.

Sometimes while listening to her play, Jaime would close his eyes, but as she span out _Kol Nidrai_ before him, he fixed his eyes on her. Her long, strong fingers worked hard to sculpt the sound, and suddenly Jaime found himself wondering what it would feel like if she rubbed his stump with them... if she touched his chest with them. The thought of her so close was intimate and heart-warming, and gave something to focus on as the music became deeper and darker.

 _She comes to play for me so often, that maybe we should have dinner together,_ Jaime thought. _And not just a dinner between friends, but a proper date. She would have to get rid of Hyle, of course, but I would make it worthwhile for her._

_Gods, I would make it worthwhile._

He only stopped daydreaming when Brienne abruptly finished playing, then it took Jaime a few seconds to realise it was not because the piece was ended, but because she was crying.

"Oh Brienne, what is the matter?"

She sniffled, trying to find the words.

"I don't know," she sobbed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "It is just this piece... it is so beautiful. It just makes me think that some things are doomed to die before they even start."

Not liking that line of argument - not when it felt as if something was starting for him, anyway - Jaime got up from the sofa to walk across the room and take her hand. She looked up at him, all nerves and star eyes, but did not object when he directed her to the sofa and indicated she should sit down. Once she had, Jaime took his place beside her and put one arm around her shoulders, in a way that he hoped was comforting rather than unnerving.

"I don't know..." he babbled, unsure how best to explain what he was feeling. "If you want... I..."

In answer to a question he had not asked, Brienne burrowed against him and buried her face in his shoulder. "I'm sorry, I'm just so emotional at the moment."

"It's fine," Jaime said soothingly, wrapping his both his arms - unaffected and stunted - around her. "We can all get emotional sometimes."

She nodded, and for a passing moment her nose brushed against the exposed skin of his neck above his collar. Jaime tried to ignore the thrill of want that danced up his spine.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled.

He kissed the top of her head. "It is fine. It's fine..."

Jaime let her weep into his shoulder, and gently stroked her hair with his remaining hand. He knew she was not crying about the music, but about something that she was not yet ready to name; that it was all over with Hyle, that she was potentially finding something new with her weird neighbour, that she had feelings that she had could not name. Having her here, close and warm and perfect, made him reflect in a way that he had not been able to during the cello piece, because it had been so long since he was touched with care.

 _How strange,_ he thought, _that I - broken and sad - only feel healed with her in my arms._

"Hush, sweetling," Jaime said, kissing her temple. "Hush."

There was no use pretending he wasn't madly in love with her anymore, so just curled himself around her and hoped he was enough.

* * *

The fifth time Brienne came to play for Jaime, she turned up at his doorstep quite unexpectedly, with a lost look in her eye. Jaime was shocked, because it was a Thursday night and he was wearing his pyjamas, but he wordlessly let her in anyway. He did not have the strength to turn her away.

As Brienne dragged her cello inside, Jaime noticed she was wearing her orchestra uniform - a long black dress that had a slit up the side of the skirt - and that was the only thing that signalled to Jaime that she shouldn't be here, but at a rehearsal.

"What are you doing...?"

"I want to play some fucking cello, and you are going to fucking listen," she snapped, as she charged right past him and headed into the lounge. Totally lost for words, Jaime could do nothing but follow.

Brienne flung the cello case down and began to undo it so violently that, for a moment, Jaime was worried she would damage the instrument. He did not raise his concerned, however, but merely sat down on the sofa and watched her. She looked red-faced and angry, and kept flicking her thing blonde hair out of her eyes as she pulled the instrument from its case. Her muscles bulged as she lifted the cello up and out, settling it between her thighs as she sat down on her usual chair. As she squeezed her legs around the instrument, the material of her dress fell in such a way the slit parted to reveal one pale freckled leg. Having not seen so much of her bare flesh before, Jaime was momentarily taken aback, but only looked up at her when she announced what she was playing for him.

"This is Shostakovich's Cello Concerto No. 1," Brienne said, before launching into it without any preamble, or explanation, which was entirely unlike her.

Normally, Jaime would settle back into the cushions of the sofa and listen, but there was something about her tone that put him off. "What's this one about?"

After a few angry sounding notes, she stopped playing. "I don't know. It's _music._ Just interpret it however you want."

She then started playing some that, to Jaime's unmusical ears, sounded like a random collection of unconnected notes. Although there were repeating patterns, it was spiky and angry, especially so since Brienne did not seem entirely in control with what she was playing.

"Fuck," she muttered when she screwed up a passage, and had to start the phrase again. "Fuck... shit... no, sorry... that's not how it goes..."

"You don't have to play for me if you are not in the mood."

She shot him angry look. "I'm fine."

"You are clearly not."

"Yes I am. I'm FINE!"

Just then, one of the cello strings snapped, and Brienne uttered a word so foul that Jaime had suspected that she did not even know it, let alone that she would ever say it. Consequently, he just stared at her in shock as she stopped playing, then took the cello out from between her legs then rested it against the table.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't even be here... dumping all my problems on you."

Jaime got to his feet, wanting to comfort her but not quite sure how.

"Oh gods, no! It is _fine._ You can talk to me. We are friends, aren't we?"

Brienne looked a little surprised by that. "Are we?"

"Of course we are," replied Jaime quickly, coming to kneel down in front of her because it suddenly felt the only thing worthy of the moment. "You are probably the only person outside my immediate family who has ever given two shits about me, so you can talk to me... if you want."

There was a heartbeat's pause before she decided where to place her trust.

"Hyle cheated on me."

"What?" spat Jaime, as his mouth dropped open in shock.

"Yeah, with a girl he works with at the office party."

Then before he could say anything, big strong Brienne had burst into tears. Her shoulders shook with the weight of her emotions, and Jaime could do nothing but shuffle forward, hoping that his mere presence could be a solace.

"I'm fucking stupid, I know. I should have spotted it. He was spending extra time at work, doing longer shifts, and I've seen her on social media. She's _pretty,_ and I... I'm..."

Jaime could not bear to watch Brienne's confidence crumble because of her dickhead of a boyfriend, so he moved forward even further in an attempt to reach out to her. Her thighs fit around him as naturally as they had the cello.

"You deserve so much better than that arsehole," said Jaime, impassioned, wanting to comfort her. He reached up with both hands to cup her face, but then realised that he only had one, so went to recoil. Before he could, however, Brienne caught his stump in her hand and just held it as tenderly as she would have any other part of his body. It almost made Jaime weep. "You deserve someone who will adore you and tell you how wonderful you are every day, because you _are._ Not someone who will cheat on you and hit you, Brienne. Someone who loves you. You deserve that more than anyone."

Her blue eyes glistened with tears. "I don't Jaime, I don't..."

"You _do,"_ he objected, wiping her tears away with his hand. "You don't know how much you have improved my life, Brienne, how much you have made every single day I've been on Tarth _worth it._ Gods, if you could see through my eyes, you would know how special you are."

She leant into his touch, his thumb half an inch from her lips. "I'm not, Jaime. Only Hyle has ever wanted me. Only Hyle has ever cared..."

"Do you honestly call what Hyle does to you _care_?" Jaime snapped, while touching her as gently as he could. "Because I don't. Not only does he trash your confidence and makes you feel terrible about yourself, he also beats you. Just listen to me, Brienne. He _hits_ you. Would you tell one of your friends that a man who does that is worthy of them?"

"No..."

"Then why do you tell yourself that Hyle is worthy of you?"

He thought that question would wrongfoot her and make her think again, but instead Brienne answered him quick as a whip. "Look at me, Jaime. I'm not beautiful, nor clever, nor intelligent. I put up with Hyle because he puts up with _me_. I want what other people have; a husband and children and a little house that I can call my own. I know that who I am and how I look will get in the way of that, so I am willing to compromise on certain things to avoid being alone."

"You should _never_ compromise on being treated with basic decency and respect," said Jaime, rising up on his knees so he could look her in the eye. "You deserve to be cherished by the person you share your life with, and you should hold out for that."

Even though her face was awash with tears, Brienne found the emotional reserve to roll her eyes. "If I try and hold out for that, I'll be waiting forever. I'll be _alone_ forever."

"You wouldn't be alone," said Jaime resolutely, firm in his convictions.

She looked at him sceptically. "Please don't give me some platitude about having friends and family. There's a difference between platonic love, and romantic love which is what I want."

"You wouldn't be alone," continued Jaime, "because you could have me."

Brienne's eyes went wide as that statement sunk in. "You... I..." She shook her head, clearly still trying to reconcile herself to what he had just said. "Stop _joking."_

"I'm not joking," he replied ardently. Then to prove he wasn't, he kissed her.

Her lips were soft and so inviting, that Jaime let out a little moan of delight as he pulled her bottom lip between his teeth and began to suck on it gently. He wondered whether Hyle ever bothered to kiss her with care, so after a moment pulled back to look into her eyes.

There were a few seconds of heavy breathing and staring before Brienne grabbed hold of his pyjama top and crashed his lips into hers in a kiss that was ruled by a hungry desire as well as confused longing. Jaime was surprised by the sheer force of Brienne's kiss, but melted into it when she opened her mouth and began to search for his tongue. He could taste salt on her lips from her tears, so continued to stroke her cheek in an attempt to comfort her. Yet this was no gentle kiss; it was stormy and passionate, and Jaime could not help but wonder if she had wanted to kiss him for a long time.

Soon, Jaime found he wanted more, so he broke the kiss in order to journey along Brienne's jaw, down her neck, and across her shoulders. Obviously not entirely sure what to do with her hands, Brienne gripped his shoulders, panting as if she had just run a race. Jaime kissed her breasts through the thin material of her dress, which made her let out a moan so filthy that Jaime felt himself harden in a way he knew there was no coming back from.

"Brienne," he murmured as he kissed his way down her body. "Oh gods, Brienne... let me worship you... _fuck..._ please..."

"Jaime," she whined, her hand jumping to his hair. "What... what... _oh..._ what are you doing?"

He pulled back, then caught the hem of her dress with his hand and his stump. The answer was surprisingly simple.

"This."

Pushing her dress up to her waist in order to expose her, Jaime began to kiss a path up her inner thighs, sucking on particular constellations of freckles that caught his attention. The contact made Brienne whimper, so Jaime pressed on. He could smell her arousal, so before long he was burying his face in her lap, revelling in the fact her underwear was soaked. Needing to give her all the pleasure Hyle could never, he kissed her just where he knew she was most hungry and wanting, desperately hoping she desired more, desired _him._

"Brienne," he moaned, suddenly realising everything she meant to him. "Brienne... let me fuck you with my tongue. _Please._ I want you so much. Let me show you how good I can make you feel, how good you _deserve_ to feel. Please, sweetling. _Please._ "

There was a moment of silence in which Jaime hovered on the edge of ripping off her underwear and diving right in. He only stopped himself because he needed to hear her consent, needed to hear that _yes_ that signified she was just as desperate for him as he was for her. Looking up at her, he hoped to see desire written on her face, but instead it seemed fear had overcome any longing.

They stared at each other. And stared. And stared.

Then she gave him such a sharp shove that Jaime fell on his arse.

"I've got to go," she mumbled, hurriedly pulling down the skirt of her dress as she got to her feet.

As she tried to rush from the room, Jaime scrambled to his feet, now horny, hard, and confused. "Wait..." he said, trying to grab her with his right but then realising he was missing a hand. She flinched.

"Please don't say anything," she begged, her eyes brimming with tears. "This has been a mistake. This whole thing has been a mistake."

That she thought that horrified Jaime. His times with Brienne were the only happy moments in his life; he could not tolerate that he had ruined everything. "No, it hasn't been. Look, if that was too much for you, we can go back to what it was before, just you, me, and the cello. It can go back..."

"No it can't!" she shouted. For a moment, her eyes burned in a way that suggested she was going to fight him on this issue, but then she turned away and began to charge back towards the door. "I'm sorry, I just can't do this. I've got to go. I'm sorry... I'm sorry."

She slammed the front door shut so quickly the walls almost shook, but Jaime could only stare after her, horrified, at what had happened.

 _I've ruined everything,_ he thought as his whole world crumbled around him. _The one good thing in my life... and I destroyed it..._

As the shock of the sudden fracturing of their relationship set in, Jaime walked back into the lounge, feeling a little dazed. Could this really be the end of everything between them? Just because he had realised what he wanted and asked her in a terribly clumsy way? Dread mounted in the pit of his stomach - this _was_ the end - until he turned the corner into the lounge.

Brienne had left her cello behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! As ever, please let me know what you think!
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	59. 28th November: Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an ill-advised public declaration of his feelings for Brienne a few days before her wedding to Hyle, Jaime goes into hiding...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is a follow up to Jaime declaring his feelings to Brienne and then vomiting in her handbag! This is built on a prompt from beesreadbooks for a fluffy prompt meme for No. 62: "While I do enjoy the silent treatment, I wasn’t aware I had done anything to you.”

"Jaime?"

"What?"

"It has been two days. You really should come out."

"I don't want to."

Tyrion sighed on the other side of the locked bedroom door. "I know but... you can't stay in there forever."

"I can if I want to," countered Jaime childishly. "Or, at least until I die of starvation... or shame, whichever comes first."

Jaime heard something that sounded like a laugh from his little brother, but it was not enough to tempt him out. "Bro, I know everything is a bit shit right now, but you are going to have to face things eventually."

"I know, but not today," Jaime replied, pulling his duvet more tightly around him. "Brienne is getting married tomorrow. I'll come out then. I'll face what I've done then."

Tyrion seemed slightly ameliorated by that, even though Jaime knew it was a lie. He did not know if he would ever be able to look Brienne in the eye after what he had done. When Jaime had previously daydreamed about how he would tell Brienne that he loved her, it always involved flowers, sweet words, and a beach at sunset, not a dingy bar, too many shots, and Margaery's vomit filled handbag.

 _Oh gods,_ Jaime thought, as he half-heartedly listened to Tyrion talking about making him a sandwich. _I've ruined everything between Brienne and me._

_Forever._

Ever since Jaime had drunkenly word vomited (then actually vomited) his feelings for his best friend out in front of a bar full of people, he had not been in contact with anyone at all. He had turned off his phone and mostly kept to his room, only leaving to go to the bathroom and make himself some food. It was partly because he was ashamed to show his face - how would Brienne be able to resist laughing at him the second she saw him? - but mostly because he was angry with himself that he had ruined what should be the happiest week of Brienne's life. He might dislike Hyle, but he loved Brienne dearly, and did not want her tearing herself apart over their ruined friendship when she should be celebrating the rest of her life with her soon-to-be husband.

And it _was_ ruined, he knew. Ever since the end of their three day thing during college, Jaime had known that Brienne had no romantic feelings for him. Every time he had teased her about their potential, she had always rebuffed him, saying he had a swollen head and was too used to women falling at his feet. Then Hyle had come along, crushing all Jaime's hopes.

 _Brienne is probably thinking of the best way to end our friendship now,_ Jaime thought sadly. _She won't want to spend any more time with me now she knows how I feel._

_Because she doesn't love me. How could she love me?_

Feeling increasingly down, Jaime rolled over in bed, determined to go back to sleep. With Brienne getting married the next day, he wanted to avoid the crushing reality of the fact that he had lost her both as a friend and as a potential soulmate.

He closed his eyes and let sleep take him.

* * *

Knock. Knock.

"Mmm."

Knock. Knock.

"Urgh."

Knock. Knock.

"Ahh! What do you want, Tyrion?"

"You need to get up!" called Tyrion through the door.

Jaime looked over at the clock; it was 1pm. 

_Brienne is getting married now,_ he thought glumly. In fact, she had probably been married to Hyle for half an hour at this point. Maybe they were standing outside the sept, Hyle's arm around Brienne's waist. Maybe she was beaming with happiness, or maybe there was a tiny part of her that was sad her best friend was not there with her on her special day. Perhaps some part of her was regretful, perhaps...

"JAIME!"

"What?"

"You need to get up. Father is here."

Jaime sat bolt upright. "Father is here? What is father here for?"

"I don't know," replied Tyrion. Jaime could almost hear the shrug in his voice. "Why don't you come into the lounge and see?"

Panic rising in his chest, Jaime was on his feet at once. He had long ago learned that the best thing to do when Tywin Lannister visited was to go along with what he wanted until he got bored and went away, so Jaime started scrabbling around trying to look presentable. He quickly ran a comb through his hair, chewed on a breath mint he found in the pocket of his dressing gown, sprayed on some deodorant, then climbed into some jeans and a t-shirt that had been hanging over the bottom of his bed for the past week.

 _Well, it is better than pyjamas,_ he thought.

Not wasting any time, the moment he looked somewhat presentable, Jaime dashed from his bedroom, bowling straight into Tyrion.

"What have you done?" hissed Jaime accusingly at his brother. "Father never turns up without reason, and I haven't done anything, so it must be you!"

Tyrion's expression turned into one of amusement. "Well I haven't either, and he's requested to talk to you. So just go inside and find out what he wants."

"But..."

Tyrion rolled his eyes. "Jaime. Please."

Knowing he had little choice, Jaime let out a dramatic sigh, then pushed open the door and went inside the lounge. Since he and Tyrion had decided to flat share, they had agreed that it should be decked out in Lannister red. He was therefore expecting his father, in his familiar black suit with the red tie, to almost melt into the background.

Therefore, the moment he spotted a pair of totally arresting blue eyes, Jaime froze. 

It was Brienne.

"Hi Jaime," she said tentatively, hiding her hands in her hoodie pockets. "How are you?"

Jaime's mouth dropped open in shock. "Brienne..."

Flabbergasted, he turned to look at Tyrion, who just gave his brother a knowing grin.

"I'll leave you two to talk," he said, grabbing hold of the door handle. "I'll be in the pub with Margaery and Sansa if you need me... but I trust you won't."

Then - before Jaime could swear at him or call him a liar - Tyrion shut the door, leaving Jaime totally alone with the last person he wanted to see. Turning to look at her, he tried to control his breathing. Why was she here? Feeling awkward beyond belief, he ran one hand through his hair, if only to burn off some nervous energy.

"W-w-what are you doing here?" he eventually managed to stammer, staring at her as if she were an alien from out of space.

Brienne did not immediately reply, but instead worried her lip between her teeth. It told him she was nervous too. "You wouldn't return any of my calls... and I was worried. While I do enjoy the silent treatment, I wasn’t aware I had done anything to you to deserve it.”

Jaime looked at the floor, suddenly feeling horribly guilty. This was the week of Brienne's wedding and, instead of excitably getting ready, she had been calling her shithead of a best friend after he made a prat of himself at the local bar.

"I'm sorry. I thought it was better this way..."

"Better?" asked Brienne sharply. "Why would you think it was better?"

Lifting his eyes from the ground, Jaime looked at Brienne - his lovely Brienne - expecting to receive her anger. Instead, he was met with her softness and gentleness. The sight of her affection for him made Jaime's heart beat faster.

"It's the week of your wedding," Jaime began, trying to find words that conveyed both a heartfelt apology and that she should not take anything he had screamed at her in the bar in anyway seriously. "I wanted you to enjoy it, not think of stupid shit your best friend said while he was drunk."

Her eyes dimmed at that statement, even as she edged forward, refusing to break their gaze. "Are you telling me you didn't mean what you said?" she asked gently. "About loving me?"

Jaime wanted to lie, to say they were nothing more than friends, but Brienne was standing in front of him - all magnificence and strength and pure fucking light - and all his pretence fell away.

"Of course I love you, Brienne," he said, a lump blooming in his throat. "How could I not? You are kind and good, the best person I have ever known. Gods, it was you who sat there and stroked my hair when my Aunt Genna died, and you who was there every time Cersei broke up with me, and you always did it without complaint. You make me like myself when I am with you and make me believe that there are good people in the world who are capable of being loving and good, no strings attached. How could I fail to adore you?"

Brienne opened her mouth to say something, but Jaime waved his hand to silence her.

"Please, just let me get it out," he begged, "I don't want you denying how wonderful you are."

She gave him a little nod, apprehensive and uncertain. "Okay. Go ahead."

"I was planning to keep my feelings to myself," he admitted, before taking a deep breath to calm himself. "I love you so much and I want you to be happy; loved and cared for and _happy_. I was totally prepared to just suck it up and let you marry the guy you want, even though I think he's a complete twat, but then I got drunk and fucked everything up. So I turned my phone off so you couldn't contact me, at least until today after the wedding and I..."

At the recital of his plan, the truth suddenly hit Jaime; fast and hard and overwhelming.

"Brienne, why aren't you at your wedding?"

The corners of her lips turned up in a careful smile. "I wondered when you would notice."

"Don't tease," Jaime said, as his heart danced a samba in his chest. "Why aren't you at your wedding? You should be at the sept with Hyle wearing that dress and a padded bra, not here with me."

At the mention of her padded bra, a glimmer lit in her eye. "Maybe you were right; maybe I didn't need the padded bra."

"That's no reason to cancel your wedding," replied Jaime, inching towards her.

"No," conceded Brienne. In a mirror of Jaime's action, she stepped forward until she was right in front of him, close enough that he could reach out and touch her. "A padded bra is not a good enough reason to cancel a wedding."

"Then what is?"

Her answer came not in words, but in the way that she stepped forward until they were almost chest to chest. Reaching out with her right hand, she intertwined their fingers, which caused Jaime's breath to hitch. He closed his eyes, quite unable to deal with her nearness.

"I don't think it is fair to marry someone... if you are in love with someone else."

Lingering in the darkness, Jaime could not quite bring himself to hope that she was talking about him, so kept his eyes closed. He only dared open them when he felt her cool fingers on his cheek, her touch as soft as silk. Her eyes were shining.

"Brienne..."

"I think it is my turn, don't you?" she said gently, a lilting tease in her voice. 

"Go ahead," he replied, too shocked to move. "I'm listening."

As she searched for the words, Brienne's thumb began to trace the line of his cheekbone, which made him lean into her touch. That small gesture made her smile, and finally gave her the courage to speak. 

"The first time I met you, I thought you were an absolute dickhead, the absolute worst. And then I discovered you were dating your stepsister and I thought you were worse than the absolute worst."

He knew this shared history well, so smiled. "Charming."

Brienne laughed.

"That was not an adjective I would have used to describe you at the start," she said honestly, "but that was because I didn't know you then. I didn't know that behind that bravado was a guy who felt deeply and fell hard, and just wanted to care for other people without being hurt in return. You were there for me when my Uncle Endrew died, and through those horrific exams at the end of second year, yet I didn't realise I was head over heels in love with you until you offered to spend Sevenmas with me in the university dorm when my flight home was cancelled. It was that awful burnt Sevenmas Pudding you made me... it was just so adorable, and who else would do something like that for me?"

Jaime shrugged. "It was nothing..."

"It wasn't nothing," Brienne said firmly, "because I'd never had anyone care for me like that. All the men I had met before you treated me as I am - ugly - but you saw past all that."

Jaime wanted to shake his head, but he was too busy enjoying the feel of her hand on his face. "You are not ugly, Brienne."

"Yes, I am. I--"

"No, honestly, you are not!" Jaime insisted, lifting the hand that was still hanging by his side and rested it on her lower back, pulling her closer to him. "Perhaps I didn't see it at first, but once I got to know you, all I could see was your cute freckles, your long legs, and your ocean eyes. When I was young and stupid and thought Cersei was the pinnacle of womankind, I was blind to it, but now... you are all I see."

To prove his point, Jaime turned his head in Brienne's hand and kissed her palm, hoping it fell right over her love line. In response, Brienne drew closer, so they were chest to chest and almost nose to nose.

"Why did you never say anything?" she asked gently.

Jaime pulled his other arm around Brienne's back, and in response she wrapped her arms around his neck. "After I screwed up those dates we went on in college, I thought you wouldn't give me another chance. Who would want a sisterfucker like me?"

As an objection and a comfort, Brienne rubbed her nose against his, causing Jaime to sigh.

"When you kept going back to Cersei, it broke my heart, as I never thought I had a chance," she admitted, and the pain in her voice visceral. "But I never thought of you badly for it. She twisted you up and made you think you needed her poison to live, but you never needed her, Jaime. You've always been wonderful, all by yourself."

"Gods, I love you so much Brienne," he said, on the edge of tears.

Brienne smiled, full of sunlight. "And I love you. I've loved you so long."

"So have I... ever since Tyrion's birthday party, with the hot tub."

Her eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline. "Since then? Why then?"

"Because it was that night that I realised that you were brighter than all the stars in the sky," he said - in the most over-the-top romantic way he could muster - before adding something a little baser. "And it was also when I realised that I was one of _some men_ who are really into your tits."

Brienne laughed in that loud, oversized way he loved so well. "Gods, Jaime, you do know how to ruin a declaration."

"I do not!" he objected, entirely in vain.

"At least this time you didn't vomit."

He had to concede to her argument. "True."

They smiled at each other.

Then, no longer having any words to explain his love, Jaime kissed Brienne.

And the whole world fell into place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, I love them all :)
> 
> In case you missed the announcement on tumblr, I am also planning on finishing Professor Jaime/Student Brienne in its own fic called [Late Nights in Love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26534341/chapters/64678024).
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	60. A Knight's Favour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A canon divergent version of Jaime giving Brienne Oathkeeper...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, most of the dialogue here belongs to GRRM and it is all his. This is done with love :)
> 
> This prompt was inspired by catherineflowers, who asked for No. 6 on the kissing prompts list, specifically: "Wild, breathless kisses brought on by a heartfelt gift - what if she'd lost control and kissed him for giving her Oathkeeper? Be still my beating heart!"
> 
> It is not quite that, but I hope you enjoy!

Brienne entered the Lord Commander's chamber one pace behind Ser Loras Tyrell, trying to appear strong and assertive, even though she was only being held upright by the corset Septa Donyse had put her in. Things had been different since she had arrived in King's Landing, and Brienne could not put a finger on why. In a strange way, it had been less complicated with Jaime in the woods; more dangerous, yes, but there had been something simple about that life. Wake, eat, piss, sleep, repeat. Apart from the routine, the only constant had been the warmth of Jaime's body, his chest rising and falling against hers. Here in King's Landing, however...

Her heartbeat quickened when Ser Loras announced their entrance, anticipating what she would see.

"Lord Commander, you wished to see the Maid of Tarth?"

Jaime turned to look at Ser Loras - all green, white, and gold - as his fingers paused between pages of the White Book. He waved them closer with his left hand, even though he did not meet Brienne's eyes. "I did. You have talked with her, I take it?"

"As you commanded, my lord," said Loras, a little stiffly.

Jaime gazed at him for a few moments, evidently waiting for him to say something. Brienne had to respect Ser Loras for his fortitude, as the man did not melt. "And?"

"I..." began Ser Loras, looking a little flustered, "it may be it happened as she says, ser. That it was Stannis. I cannot be certain."

At his hesitancy, Brienne wanted to step in and reaffirm the points she had made to Ser Loras already, but Jaime beat her to it. "Varys tells me that the castellan of Storm's End perished strangely as well."

"Ser Cortnay Penrose," Brienne supplied, even as her heart sank in rememberance. "A good man."

Jaime's lips quirked it what might have been a type of queer amusement. "A _stubborn_ man. One day he stood square in the way of the King of Dragonstone. The next he leapt from a tower." The Lord Commander's chair scrapped across the floor as he got to his feet. "Ser Loras, we will talk more of this later. You may leave Brienne with me."

For a moment, Brienne wished that Ser Loras would stay. It was one thing to share a bath with Ser Jaime in a place so strange and shadowed that it could be a nightmare, quite another to exchange a polite conversation in a decorated chamber her father would view as pleasant. Yet Brienne had no luck. Loras gave them both a courteous nod before turning on his heel and leaving the room, his white cloak billowing behind him.

It left Brienne and Jaime perfectly alone.

Not sure what to say, Brienne turned to look at Jaime, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, the Kingslayer. For once, it appeared he had run out of words, because his mouth was in such a tight line that it seemed impossible that he could unlock it and say anything. Instead, his eyes lingered on the dress Septa Donyse had fashioned for her, roving over the decoration on the bust. Brienne found it very difficult not to blush. Wanting to put an end to this awkward silence, she went to speak, but Ser Jaime pipped her to the post.

"Blue is a good colour on you, my lady. It goes well with your eyes."

Given the sweetness of the courtesy and the fact his eyes had not moved from her chest - he was probably wondering how Septa Donyse had completed the intricate beading on the neckline - Brienne was entirely unsure of what to say. "Septa Donyse padded out the bodice, to give it that shape," she said by way of an explanation, before trying to change the subject. "She said you sent her to me."

If that was the truth, it did not show on Jaime's face, even when he finally met her eye. His gaze was so intense that Brienne could not help but steal a glance at the door, imagining ways to escape this newfound awkwardness. Unfortunately, Jaime looked so well in his Kingsguard uniform that Brienne could not keep her eyes away for long.

"You look..."

Jaime gave her a lopsided smile. "Different? More meat on the bones and fewer lice in my hair, that's all. The stump's the same. Close the door and come here."

Brienne did what she was ordered, even though it foiled any of her contingency plans, and then came to stand beside him. It was almost difficult to believe this was the same man she had been tied to halfway across the Riverlands, now he was resplendent in white. Where they had existed in a strange equality in the darkness of the woods, here they were once again lord and lady. She did not know how to bring their old, easy co-existance back.

"The white cloak..."

"... is new, but I'm sure I'll soil it soon enough," said Jaime tightly.

"That wasn't," said Brienne regretfully, disappointed in the evidently clumsy way she had tried to return his courtesy. "I was about to say that it becomes you."

When his expression did not change, she stepped forward, trying to find the best way to broach the unsayable. "Jaime, did you mean what you told Ser Loras? About... about King Renly, and the shadow?"

He shrugged, in that nonchalant way he always used that Brienne suspected belied some true feelings. "I would have killed Renly myself if we'd met in battle, what do I care who cut his throat?"

"You said I had honour..." she replied.

 _Nobody_ had said she had honour before.

"I'm the bloody Kingslayer, remember?" Jaime shot back, his temper rising. "When I say you have honour, that's like a whore vouchsafing your maidenhood." He rocked back on his heels and peered up at her, shadows dancing behind his eyes. "Steelshanks is on his way back north, to deliver Arya Stark to Roose Bolton."

Her desire to work at the corners of his strange mood until he came apart disappeared at once, in a flood of righteous anger. "You have her to _him?_ You swore an oath to Lady Catelyn..."

"With a sword at my throat, but never mind. Lady Catelyn's dead. I could not give her back her daughters even if I had them. And the girl my father sent with Steelshanks was not Arya Stark."

That statement confused Brienne more than it reassured her.

" _Not_ Arya Stark?"

"You heard me," said Jaime, half a challenge and half a surrender. "My lord father found some skinny northern girl more or less the same age with more or less the same colouring. He dressed her up in white and grey, gave her a silver wolf to pin her cloak, and sent her off to wed Bolton's bastard." Jaime directed his stump at her, and Brienne could not tell if he would have been pointing or extending his palm to her if he still possessed his hand. "I wanted to tell you that before you went galloping off to rescue her and got yourself killed for no good purpose. You're not half bad with a sword, but you're not good enough to take on two hundred men by yourself."

"When Lord Bolton learns that your father paid him with false coin..." began Brienne.

Jaime cut across her, his tone strangely bitter. "Oh, he knows. _Lannisters lie,_ remember? It makes no matter, this girl serves his purpose just as well. Who is going to say she _isn't_ Arya Stark? Everyone the girl was close to is dead except for her sister, who has disappeared."

Although he was telling her monstrous things, there was something in Jaime's tone that made her think there was more to this story than what he was spelling out. "Why would you tell me all this, if it's true? You are betraying your father's secrets."

An echo of a smile crossed his face.

"I pay my debts like every good little lion. I did promise Lady Stark her daughters... and one of them is still alive. My brother may know where she is, but if so he isn't saying. Cersei is convinced that Sansa helped him murder Joffrey."

"I will not believe that gentle girl a poisoner," snapped Brienne, thinking of a sweet maid with red hair who was the image of her mother. "Lady Catelyn said that she had a loving heart. It was your brother. There was a trial, Ser Loras said."

The expression that crossed Ser Jaime's face would have seemed like anger to the uninitiated, but Brienne could tell it was that bitter sadness he liked to mask as something else. "Two trials, actually. Words and swords both failed him. A bloody mess. Did you watch from your window?"

"My cell faces the sea," Brienne said, remembering the way she had tried to imagine she could observe Tarth across that never-ending blue. "I heard the shouting, though."

"Prince Oberyn of Dorne is dead, Ser Gregor Clegane lies dying, and Tyrion stands condemned before the eyes of gods and men," said Ser Jaime, not meeting her eye. Brienne could almost picture the bloodied bodies behind him. "They're keeping him in a black cell till they kill him."

Although Jaime liked to speak in an almost provocatively blunt way, Brienne had learnt that his sharpness hid a softness which he did not want revealed. She gazed at him searchingly, trying to find the thread with which to unwind him. "You do not believe he did it."

"See, wench?" he replied, smiling at her in an attempt to parry her blow. "We know each other too well. Tyrion's wanted to be me since he took his first step, but he'd never follow me in kingslaying. Sansa Stark killed Joffrey. My brother's kept silent to protect her. He gets these fits of gallantry from time to time. The last one cost him a nose. This time it will mean his head."

Although she had no doubt that Jaime knew his brother, she could not believe Lady Catelyn's daughter would be capable of such a crime. "No, it was not my lady's daughter. It could not have been her."

His smile turned lilting, as if he was about to offer her a saccharine platitude. "There's the stubborn stupid wench that I remember."

Brienne crimsoned, with both anger and embarrassment. "My name is..."

"Brienne of Tarth," he said, putting an end to her disquiet in the way her name coming out as a sigh. It could have been the beginning phrase of a song. "I have a gift for you."

That statement surprised her so much that Brienne was somewhat pleased when he turned away from her in order to reach under the Lord Commander's chair to reveal his gift, wrapped in a rich crimson velvet. The flush in his cheeks matched the colour of the material, as she reached out and tentatively took the thick hilt of the sword with one freckled hand. Jaime sucked in a sharp breath when her fingers brushed the leather, then exhaled as she pulled the blade from its scabbard. Brienne had to suppress a gasp as the sword shone red and black, with blood like rubies glinting in the light; she had never seen something so beautiful, outside of his eyes.

"Is this Valyrian steel? I have never seen such colours."

At the sight of her wonder, a strange melancholy crossed his face. "Nor I. There was time that I would have given my right hand to wield a sword like that. Now it appears I have, so the blade is wasted on me. Take it." Brienne wanted to refuse, to tell him the sword was not wasted on him - he only had to practice and try - but he pressed on. "A sword so fine must bear a name... it would please me if you call this Oathkeeper... and take it to find Sansa."

Brienne looked up from the sword to Jaime and was surprised to find a tenderness in his gaze that she had never seen before.

"Take the sword and keep our oath."

As that phrase - _our oath_ \- left his mouth, his sadness momentarily became unguarded, and it allowed Brienne to see _everything_ ; his long hidden hopes, his fears, that young man who had killed a king and his dream in one swing of a sword.

 _Jaime,_ she mused. _Jaime._

Overcome by the way he held this incomparable gift out to her, Brienne leant forward and pressed a quick, chaste kiss to his cheek, so swift that she wouldn't have been surprised if he did not notice it.

Yet it was clear Jaime felt the imprint of her lips on his skin, for his eyes went wide and kaleidoscopic, brighter than all the stars in the sky.

"Brienne..." he sighed.

 _Oh,_ she thought, as the world shifted beneath her feet.

_I love him. Of course._

She wondered whether he was thinking the same thing in the following silence, especially when he tilted his head to the side...

When he reached out for her cheek with his remaining hand...

When he kissed her back.

When she melted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for spending your precious time on earth reading this fic!


	61. Shapely Calves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Queen Brienne is in search of a husband, and it seems physical requirements are at the top of her priority list...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is a silly little one shot drawn from a period drama prompt from anonymous, who asked for No. 5 "Oh no! I saw your ankle! IT IS THE SEXIEST THING THAT HAS EVER HAPPENED TO ME!"
> 
> It is also kinda based on the fact that 5"11 Mary, Queen of Scots was first attracted to her second husband Henry, Lord Darnley because he was the only man in the room taller than her!

Brienne was bored of these silly games, as she truly had no wish to marry.

Yet as the Petty Queen of Tarth, Brienne found that all the nearby kings, princes, and dukes, sent their excess sons to vie for her hand in lieu of getting any inheritance from their fathers. Some were handsome, some plain, some jovial, some serious, but all were unvaryingly disappointing. Ronnet Connington had been the worst, as he had been completely unable to keep his true opinions to himself, although the others had not been much better. Humphrey Wagstaff had old fashioned ideas about a woman's place in the world, and Gyles Caron had been cursed with the most _irritating_ cough.

"Goodwin," she said, turning to her Chief Advisor who sat on her right. "I thought you said there would be no more suitors tonight."

"I did, Your Grace," he replied.

She raised an eyebrow. "Then why are the heralds set to announce another entrant to the feast?"

Before Goodwin could respond, the heralds raised their trumpets and played a majestic trill that made all the guests at the banquet turn to the Great West Door. As the oak doors swung open, a long knife cut of a man became visible, dressed all in scarlet. The moment he stepped inside the room, there was a hush from those assembled. For a moment, Brienne wondered what the quiet had been caused by - was he carrying a concealed weapon? - but then she saw for herself.

The man was _beautiful._

"Ser Jaime Lannister, son of Tywin Lannister of Casterly Rock," cried the herald, as the new guest began to stride down the Great Hall towards the dais on which Queen Brienne's throne was stood. With every step, his easy gait displayed both the wired strength of his body and accentuated the huge, decorated codpiece he wore. If she was not so certain that he could fill it out, Queen Brienne might have giggled. That Ser Jaime had some kind of spell on her quickly became apparent as, from the tables lined along the walls, many of the Queen of Tarth's guests began to whisper to each other in hushed voices. Brienne could imagine what they were saying: maybe, this was the man she would say _yes_ to.

When Jaime Lannister finally reached the foot of Brienne's throne, he doffed his cap and bowed deeply, refusing to take his emerald eyes from her face. As he released his cap, his hair golden hair tumbled free, falling to his shoulders in perfect curls. Her breath hitched in her throat. Standing back up to his full height, Jaime Lannister offered her a curt half-smile, that seemed strangely subversive and disregarding of their divergent statuses.

Brienne swallowed heavily.

"Your Grace," he said, his beautiful green eyes flashing. "Thank you for showing us your hospitality. We are sorry that we are late; the weather has been quite frightful this evening."

"It has," she replied smoothly, not wishing to cause him any disquiet.

Getting to her feet, Brienne held out one hand towards him, adorned only with her mother's simple, sapphire ring. Jaime Lannister did not waste any time in leaning forward to take her hand and press a heated kiss to it. The patch of skin where his lips brushed burned.

"Ser Jaime," Brienne said the moment he released her, taking her seat back on her throne. "Welcome to Tarth."

"Thank you, Your Grace. Although I have to admit I was somewhat disappointed."

Brienne's expression darkened. "In what way?"

His face broke into a smile so dazzling it was like the sun at dawn. "I was told that the waters were the deepest blue in the world."

"They _are,_ " replied Brienne, a little insulted on behalf of her island. "Have you ever see a deeper blue?"

"Yes."

"When?"

Ser Jaime's lips quirked into a grin. "Just a moment ago."

It took her a few seconds to pick up his meaning.

"Oh," said Brienne, looking down at her ring. "It was my mother's. She was descended from the Targaryens, so we inherited it from Old Valyria."

Although he seemed barely interested by the story, his gaze remained unwavering.

"I am not talking about your ring," he said, looking straight into her eyes.

She swallowed again. No man dared to speak of the Queen of Tarth so intimately.

Lost for words and blushing like a silly girl, Brienne turned to Goodwin in order to distract herself from this handsome man who had invaded her evening.

"Goodwin, can we please get some music, I wish to watch the dancing," she said, to which order her advisor complied at once. At the clap of his hands, the musicians appeared on the gallery and instantly started up a pavane and galliard. The first chord inspired the courtiers to rise to their feet, instantly pairing off. Ser Jaime did not move.

"Your Grace," he said, his voice low. "Do you care to dance?"

Queen Brienne shook her head; there were too many bad memories of a shadowed ballroom and a red rose.

"No, but I _would_ care to watch you dance."

He bit his lip, making her momentarily wonder what it would be like to press her mouth against his. "Of course, Queen Brienne."

Ser Jaime kept his eyes locked with hers as he walked into the hall and picked a fair-faced courtier out for his dance partner. As the music swelled, he got into position, lining up beside the giggling girl he had picked to accompany him. In every cutting line, every pose of the dance, Ser Jaime looked long and beautiful, his legs shapely in his scarlet stockings. Even his ankles seemed to trim in at the perfect angle and she could not help but admire him. Queen Brienne was so tall that the thought of a potential suitor almost her height made her feel dizzy.

And to top it all off, Ser Jaime smiled at her as he danced, and Brienne's heart felt strangely light.

"Goodwin."

"Yes, Your Grace?"

"Do you think King Tywin would be amenable to coming to some arrangement with me concerning his son," she asked, her eyes still on the rogue in red who had near stolen her breath in a night.

Goodwin nodded, but there was something grave in his expression. "Oh yes, but not _this_ son. Not Ser Jaime."

Brienne's eyebrows almost disappeared into her hairline. "What? Then which son?"

Before Goodwin could answer, the music was interrupted by the herald's trumpet once more. Turning to the doors, Brienne waited expectantly for who was about to arrive.

"Tyrion Lannister, son of Tywin Lannister of Casterly Rock!"

The crowd of dancers, including Ser Jaime, parted and there was a collective gasp as Tywin's second son came waddling in. In contrast to his tall, strapping brother, Tyrion Lannister would not have come up to Queen Brienne's waist.

"Why is everyone gawping?" he asked jovially. "Have I missed the party?"

Queen Brienne's stomach sank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was very silly! I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


	62. It's Just Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne hang out after work...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was for a quick prompt from wildlingoftarth! The prompt was "An accidental brush of lips followed by a pause and going back for another, on purpose.” I hope you enjoy!

It was the worst fucking bit of business, in Brienne's opinion. She didn't mind the big board meetings and the spreadsheets, the email etiquette, and the water cooler chats, because they had a sense of order and a clear set of _rules._ The unofficial receptions at the local wine bar after work, however, were another thing entirely.

Brienne would stand in the corner with her drink, taking the tiniest sips in order to give herself something to do, waiting for someone to come and talk to her. Nobody would. The _Tarly Corporation_ were an unreformed boys' club, after all, with Randyll running the show like a mini-dictator. He often made it clear how little he valued Brienne's presence in the company and that her position was only a boon to her father (an old family friend). Randyll's contempt radiated downwards so none of her colleagues wanted to spend any time with her outside of work - lest they upset the boss - meaning she often suffered the evening alone when the office decamped to the bar.

It therefore surprised Brienne that the new recruit - the irritatingly handsome Jaime Lannister - was spending the latest wine bar meeting buzzing around her like a supremely annoying fly.

"I'm astonished you are here, Tarth," he smirked, his green eyes glittering in a way that was both frustrating and frustratingly sexy. "You seem too uptight for a wine bar."

"I have no choice. These drinks are not _drinks_ , but basically unofficial business meetings... they just happen to be in a wine bar."

As Jaime let out a little laugh, Brienne hid her blush by taking a sip of her drink. Jaime had only been working at the _Tarly Corporation_ a few weeks, but Brienne had quickly come to realise that he was causing her a major problem. Every time he walked past her cubicle at work and chose - for some unknown reason - to lean in and say _good morning_ , Brienne would blush; blotchy, red, unsightly. Maybe it was his stupid dimples, his nice smile, or his ridiculously cheesy jokes, but for some reason Brienne would forget how to behave like a human being around Jaime Lannister. Instead of coming back at him with some witticism or criticism, she would just blush... and blush... and blush...

And now, Jaime had chosen to corner her at the wine bar.

"How come you aren't talking to anyone, then?" he asked, pointing around at their scattered colleagues.

"I do talk to people. I'm talking to you."

"No," he smirked. "I'm talking to _you."_

After that, there was little Brienne could do to get rid of him. He started pestering her about her hobbies, what she watched on TV, and if she had ever seen the band _The Wildlings_ in concert.

"No, I've never seen _The Wildings_ in concert."

"Oh, you should. They're really good. They—"

Before Jaime could set off on some big explanation as to why _The Wildlings_ were the greatest thing to ever happen to modern music, Randyll came over and pulled him away.

"Jaime, let me introduce you to my colleague, Petyr Baelish, from the Stormlands Office. He is really interested in the system upgrade that you proposed..."

As he directed Jaime away from her, Randyll did not give Brienne a second glance. Jaime did though. Flashing an apologetic smile at her, he let himself be led away by her horrible boss and taken over to a rather unmemorable looking man with a goatee for a chat.

Brienne sipped her drink. Normally, she would be dwelling on the fact that once again she had been side-lined by her boss, but this time she could not help but rest her gaze on Jaime. The line of his back was strangely compelling, especially as he was wearing a very tight fitting suit that tucked in nicely at the waist, and he kept stealing glances over his shoulder to smile at her.

There was a glint in his eye that feels strangely animalistic, and a buzz in her chest that felt like drunkenness or something more dangerous.

Brienne doesn't trust it. She doesn't trust herself.

Suddenly wanting to be away as quick as possible, Brienne decided to make true on an earlier promise she had made herself to only stay for an hour. Unfortunately, Jaime's gaze kept grazing her skin and making her feel _hot_ every time she tried to make her escape _._

It left her feeling trapped between staying and leaving.

To distract herself, Brienne made idle chit-chat with Margaery Tyrell for a while, praying that her reaction when Jaime _accidentally-but-maybe-totally-on-purpose_ brushed past her to get to the bar was not totally obvious.

"Are you okay, Brienne?" asked Margaery, when Brienne went as red as a tomato for the third time in the space of twenty minutes due to Jaime’s latest invasion of her personal space.

Brienne nodded, then vaguely looked in the direction of her watch in order to give herself an excuse to leave. 

"Yeah, I'm fine... it's just getting late, and I need to... to..." She suddenly noticed that Jaime was watching her from the bar, biting his bottom lip. Gods, he made her half-feral. "I... I've got to go... wash... my... cat."

Margaery frowned confusedly. "What? I..."

"Sorry, I'll see you on Monday," Brienne said, putting her half-finished drink down on the nearest table before turning on her heel and dashing away.

As she fled, Brienne was certain she could feel a pair of eyes following her, and after a few moments she realised they were accompanied by a pair of feet. Given her speediness, Jaime did not catch her until she had made through the exit, but he immediately pulled her to a halt when they got outside.

"Hey, are you going?" he asked, not taking his hand from her arm.

At his closeness, Brienne once again felt her face heating up. Dying of embarrassment at how _obvious_ she was being, she tried to pull away.

"Yeah, I've got to get home."

For some reason, Jaime looked disappointed. "Oh, well... I'll see you on Monday, then."

"Yeah," mumbled Brienne, not meeting his eye. "Have a good weekend."

If left to her own devices, Brienne would have probably pulled away at that moment, but compelled by social rules, she leant in for the obligatory kiss on the cheek. Having done this thousands of times with thousands of colleagues, Brienne expected it to go as it normally did; with the briefest brush of her lips against his cheek, a quick squeeze of his arm, and a courteous goodbye.

Unfortunately (or fortunately), it did not go to plan.

As Brienne leant in for the kiss, Jaime did too, but then a misguided alignment of head tilts, the solar system, and the stars meant that instead of his cheek, for a brief, torturous second, Brienne's lips brushed against Jaime's.

Once she yanked herself away, she froze, mortified.

"Jaime, I'm sorry—"

Yet before she could finish her half-baked apology, Jaime's hands had jumped to her face and pulled her back towards him for another kiss. This one was no mere brush of the lips, but a purposeful press of his mouth against hers. For a few seconds, Brienne did not know what to do, but then Jaime teased her bottom lip in between his teeth and _sucked,_ and then she suddenly found her arms were wrapped around him and she was making appreciative little sounds at the back of her throat.

When she finally found the strength to pull away, Brienne found that Jaime was blushing, perhaps an even deeper red than herself.

"Do you have to go?" he asked, his expression strangely pleading. "Or do you fancy going to get a proper drink at a proper wine bar... with me?"

Although she was a little nervous, their shared kiss helped Brienne find the courage to speak.

"Yes, Jaime. That would be lovely. Where would you like to go?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at [seethemflying](https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask).


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